


The Red Duchess's Claim

by pashaimeru



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bad Ending, Brainwashing, Character Death, Corruption, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Foot Fetish, Mind Control, Pseudo-Incest, Spanking, Torture, Transformation, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pashaimeru/pseuds/pashaimeru
Summary: The daughter of a family of vampire hunters is captured by a centuries-old vampire who believes her to be her daughter reborn. And though she initially refuses to acknowledge her new mother, through pleasure, torture and extended brainwashing anyone can be broken.Do note the tags before reading on.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

Evelyn Thorberg was busy packing, and based on the size of the suitcase, it looked like it would be a long assignment. There were a few changes of clothes in the suitcase, a laptop and a charger, an e-book reader and some toiletries. The tools of the trade would be hidden under a false bottom: the hammer and stakes, the crossbow, the axe and the bottles of pre-mixed chemicals.

“Oh, April,” she said, turning to face her daughter. “Have you seen my pyjamas? The one with the moon pattern on them. I thought I—”

“They’re out drying, mom,” April interrupted her. “I only just did the laundry this morning.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it can’t be helped. I suppose I’ll have to grab a different pair.”

April sighed. “Mom, you didn’t tell me you had an assignment again. Are you gonna be gone for long?”

Evelyn offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I only heard about it just now. There’s a lead on the Red Duchess, and I don’t want the trail to go cold again.”

“O-oh. Will you be safe? Is there going to be backup?” April tried to look unperturbed.

“It’s okay. There will be plenty. I wouldn’t go against her alone,” Evelyn said, ruffling her daughter’s caramel brown hair.

“…Good. You best be careful, okay? Maybe I should come with you, just to make sure you don’t do anything dumb.”

Evelyn offered her the usual smile. And the usual words. “When you’re older, honey. Not just yet.”

The Thorberg family had a secret, one that April had known about for as long as she had been old enough to keep it. Her mom wasn’t just the lorry driver she pretended to be—she was the successor of a renowned family of vampire hunters, and by all accounts, she was very good at her job.

That didn’t mean April didn’t worry for her, though, especially when it came to the Red Duchess. A centuries old vampire, powerful and cunning, she had sired countless others over the years, pulling their strings but seldom exposing herself to the hunters. Those few who had faced her directly seldom survived to tell the tale. The Thorbergs were an exception, having something of a family history with her. It was April’s own great-grandfather Edmund Thorberg who had gotten the closest to putting an end to the mad vampire; as Evelyn told the story, he had single-handedly slain the Duchess’s attendants and had come very close to delivering a fatal wound to her as well.

But the Duchess had escaped, and Edmund soon succumbed to his wounds. Ever since then, his descendants had kept doggedly pursuing her. Evelyn was merely continuing what her grandfather had started, and should she be unsuccessful, April would continue from where she left off. Such was the legacy of their little clan.

“Fine. Stay in touch, though, okay? I want to know that you’re okay.” April finally said, sulking a bit.

“I promise, honey,” Evelyn said, and smiled, hand over her heart.

“And remember to take the charger for your phone this time!”

“Yes, yes. It’s already packed! See!” Evelyn lifted her laptop to show it. There it was, along with a dog-eared crime novel and a strange piece of jewellery—an old golden ring on a string.

“Right,” April said dryly. “Just… be safe, okay?”

“Of course!” Evelyn winked. “Don’t you worry about me. Oh, and feel free to order food if you don’t feel like cooking. I’ll leave some cash out for you, honey.”

The vampire hunter packed her suitcase in no time at all. The two of them hugged and said their goodbyes, and once again, April was left alone to worry after her.

Hunting vampires was not exactly glamorous work. It was more about being a detective than a warrior; no human, no matter how strong or well trained, could match a true vampire in a straight fight. To even attempt was insanity. The best method of putting down the monsters would be to track them down and find out where they slept, and to drive a wooden stake through their unbeating heart. Simply mobbing them with numbers would sometimes be a serviceable backup plan—a lucky crossbow shot through the chest would at least paralyse them, if not kill them instantly—but in such cases causalities were nearly impossible to avoid.

April’s mom was no warrior. She was in good physical shape, make no mistake: she was athletic and quick on her feet, and strong enough to hold out against your average ghoul, but a hunter’s true asset would always be her quick wit, not her brawn or skill with arms. In a sense, that was a relief. Evelyn would be interviewing eyewitnesses and studying historical records in hopes of discovering the lair of the Red Duchess, not picking a fight with her directly. At least, April hoped she wouldn’t. Skilled as her mom was, she was rather impulsive sometimes—and if given a chance to avenger her late grandfather and to save countless future victims from the mad vampiress, she might just do something stupid. And so, her daughter couldn’t help but to worry.

Training was a good way for April to get her mind off the matter. She did a series of pull-ups and a series of sit-ups; she practiced with her crossbow in the basement and spent some time cleaning and oiling it. Someday soon, her mom would _have_ to take her on a hunt with her. She might have still been just a child, but she _was_ a daughter of the Thorbergs. And though there had been a time when Evelyn had tried to subtly discourage her child from following in her footsteps, April was adamant that she would continue the family legacy. The horror stories her mom had told her about the monsters had been frightening and disturbing—but ultimately, they had only served to convince her of the importance of their family duty.

But thinking about such matters wouldn’t make her any less worried about her mom, April decided. Abandoning her training for the day, she took a quick shower and picked up her phone. “Hey! Rose! You wanna come over? My mom’s gone at least for the weekend. We could order us some pizzas, her treat…”


	2. Chapter 2

“Really? Anchovies again…?” April pursed her lips.

Rose stuck her tongue out. “They’re great! Don’t complain just ‘cause you’ve still got the palate of a child.”

“Whatever. But don’t expect to trade for mine.”

Rose offered a grin in response. April smiled back.

As an heir to a family of vampire hunters, April didn’t have a lot of time for friends or hobbies. Much of it was spent with practice and study, and secrecy was paramount to those in the business. Rose was perhaps the only truly close friend she had, and different as the two were, they had become quite inseparable over the years.

Where April was quiet and serious, Rose was peppy and playful. While the extroverted nature of her best friend got annoying at times, Rose dragging her to this event and that, even April had to admit it was good for her. If not for that, April would’ve practically been a shut-in, her free time split between schoolwork and training. Her mom kept encouraging their friendship, too: it obviously wouldn’t be good for a growing child to not develop friendships or experience a normal life. Though the time for April to pick up her mom’s trade was fast approaching, Evelyn wanted her daughter to be a child while she still could. There was still time.

“Come on, let’s find a movie for us. What’ll it be? Action? Horror, maybe?” Rose asked, still grinning.

“…No horror,” April said. “Other than that, it’s your pick.”

It wasn’t just their personality where the two differed. April was slender and athletic, her caramel hair always tied back to a practical ponytail. Petite in build, she looked even younger than she was. Rose, in comparison, had been an early bloomer, half a head taller with a clearly more developed body and a mature sense of fashion. If not for her curly ginger hair and clearly paler complexion, some might have confused her for April’s older sister despite them being the same age.

“No horror? Aww, is my April scared?” Rose teasingly ruffled her friend’s hair. “You could always sit on my lap if it gets too bad!”

“S-stop that,” April said, ducking away with a surly expression. “I’m just not in the mood, that’s all.”

Rose liked her horror flicks. April didn’t _dislike_ them, exactly, but if her aim was to get her mind off the monsters her mom was out hunting at this very moment, they would have been quite counterproductive.

“Sure, sure,” Rose said, dragging April by her hand to the sofa. “Okay, let’s see…”

After some deliberation, Rose finally chose a flashy superhero film for the two of them. It was nothing particularly good, but Rose seemed to get into it, cheering for the heroine and making fun of the villains. This was exactly what April had needed: some company, some sense of normalcy, the usual tomfoolery of her best friend. Soon enough, she too found herself giggling at the dumb jokes Rose was making, much of the evening after the film spent in a state of food coma as a result of all the pizza and ice cream the two of them had managed to wolf down.

It had become commonplace for Rose to spend the night at the Thorbergs, especially in those times when April’s mom was gone. After the two girls had exhausted themselves out, they set up the usual guest bed in April’s room, changed to their pyjamas and tucked themselves in.

“Tomorrow…” Rose mumbled into her pillow. “Let’s go do something fun.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. We could go to some fancy cafe or something. Or the pool.”

“Yeah, maybe.” April wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she was a little too tired to think right now. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Kaaay.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was a loud crash downstairs, the sound of glass breaking. April jolted awake and rolled out of her bed. Rose reacted slower, blinking and stretching, still clearly half-asleep. “Wuh?”

April glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was half past midnight; the two of them had been asleep for just under an hour. “Hold on, I’m gonna go see.”

“Eh?! W-wait, what if it’s a burglar? Shouldn’t we…” Rose said, finally awake enough to get some grasp of the situation.

“Just stay here,” April said, a bit harshly, heading out of the door before her friend managed another protest.

A burglar wouldn’t have been too dangerous, but April knew better than to count on that. There was a reason that vampire hunters operated in secrecy; it was all too easy for the hunter to become the hunted once the cover was blown. She snuck out into the corridor and peeked downstairs, staying as low and quiet as she could.

Even from distance, April could tell the home invaders were ghouls. With pale skin and empty eyes, an odd stiffness to their step, there was no mistaking it. There were three of them: two men and a woman. April could feel her heart skipping a beat, a cold panic freezing her body for just a brief moment. She had, technically, trained exactly for situations like this, but as her mom always said, no amount of practice would prepare her for the real thing. Drawing a slow, deep breath, squeezing her fists together until they turned white, she forced herself to focus on the situation she was in.

This wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Also known as lesser vampires, ghouls were nothing compared to the true monsters they served. Husks of a vampire’s victims, drained of all blood and reanimated by dark magic, ghouls had few of the strengths of a true vampire. Though somewhat stronger than an average person, they were slower in both action and thought, easy to outrun and outwit. Chances were that April could easily slip away by hiding herself and making a run for it as soon as she found the opportunity.

Or she could have done that, if not for Rose. Where April was quick and agile, Rose simply wasn’t. She was just a normal girl: expecting her to keep her composure and slip away from a bunch of undead horrors was not reasonable.

Whatever they were going to do, they’d only have a few moments. The ghouls were busy searching downstairs, but no doubt they’d be heading up in no time. Her heart racing, April hurried back to her room.

“April, what—”

“Listen,” April said, keeping her voice low. Her mouth was dry. “You need to do as I tell you. Do you understand?”

“But…” Rose looked genuinely frightened, but after looking April in the eyes, she nodded and fell silent. Was her expression that scary?

Kneeling and reaching under her bed, April pulled out a wooden box that she promptly unlatched. There was a crossbow inside: simple, sturdy and heavy. No frills, just raw strength required to drive a stake through an undead chest from a distance. Tools like this were for emergencies only—but this was definitely one.

If Rose had had any protests left within her, they vanished as soon as she saw the weapon. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Amusing though the sight might have been under different circumstances, April had no time for laughs. “Stay here and stay quiet. When I yell your name, you run out. Don’t stop to help me, don’t stop for anything. I’m going to be fine.” Rose’s eyes were wide as saucers, but she did manage something of a nod. Wasting no more time, April ran back out to the hallway.

April only had one shot with her crossbow: reloading it mid-fight simply wasn’t going to happen. Some hunters used models with multiple shots, but they were far too bulky for a girl of her size to handle. Her mom didn’t believe in devices like that in the first place; standing and fighting was practically always the wrong choice, even when it came to mere ghouls.

One of the ghouls was already ascending the stairs. “There’s a girl here!” he shouted to the others, his voice hollow in tone. “Get he—”

Filled with adrenaline, April let the bolt fly loose. Hitting the ghoul in the upper chest, his eyes went wide, and he collapsed, his body turning to dust even before hitting the floor. A true vampire wouldn’t have fallen so easily; April silently prayed the ghouls wouldn’t have any such backup.

That was enough of a distraction. The other two ghouls ran up the stairs, unbothered by the death of their own. The only thing a ghoul was loyal to was the vampire who had created them; they feared neither pain nor death and stopped at nothing to fulfil their master’s wishes. Their single-mindedness was a flaw as well, however. Once they caught sign of their prey, they’d be blind to anything else.

Dropping her weapon, April turned and ran the length of the upstairs hallway into her mom’s bedroom. The ghouls followed, and as soon as she saw them in the doorway, she yelled out. “Rose! Run!”

“It’s you who should run, little girl,” the female ghoul said, grinning menacingly. “Mistress is going to—”

April didn’t stay to listen. Pushing open the bedroom window, she dropped down, hoping the lawn underneath would soften the fall. She had never jumped from this height before, but it should be fine; she had practiced falling plenty. All it would take was a smooth roll, and she’d be back on her feet, running down the street in her pyjamas. She would grab Rose, and they would make for safety together.

But the landing never came. Instead, there was a _yank_. April’s world turned upside down; she couldn’t help but to let out an involuntary shriek. Thick red mist coagulated around her ankles, dangling her up in the air. As she tried to get her bearings, she heard a voice by her ear. Soft like silk, with just a hint of a foreign accent. “So, the huntress really has an offspring. How wonderful.”

April’s blood ran cold. She found herself being turned around in the air, now face to face with her captor, upside-down from her perspective. Porcelain-white skin, pointed ears and crimson eyes; a ruffled red dress that looked like it belonged to an era long gone. A string of black pearls adorned her pale neck; a pair of garnet teardrop earrings, like droplets of blood, dangled from her ears. It was her lips that April’s eyes were immediately drawn to, however: glossy and scarlet, a predatory smile upon them, just a trace of sharp fangs visible as she opened her mouth to speak. “Let’s take a better look at you, girl,” she purred.

Some part of April wished she had a witty insult, or something similarly defiant to say. But right now, she couldn’t get a word out of her throat. This vampire—based on the way she dressed and the strange magic she was using—must have been the Red Duchess, one of the most notorious and powerful vampires out there. Caught in her grip, there was no way out.

But suddenly, something changed in the vampiress’s expression. The wicked smile turned into a look of surprise, her red eyes widening. She brought her hand up to April’s face, her long red nails like claws, and brushed aside her caramel brown bangs. Her touch was cold; frozen in fear, April closed her eyes and silently prayed for anyone who might hear. “I see,” the Duchess said, her voice a whisper. “The fates were so cruel, and yet, they brought you straight to me…”

“W-what are you talking about…?” April asked, her voice small. “I don’t…”

“Shh,” the Duchess said, her tone suddenly very gentle. “You don’t have to worry any longer. Relax, my darling. I’ve finally found you.”

April could feel the solid red mist around her ankles spreading, a cold sensation creeping upwards. There was no point in struggling: within just a moment, it had wrapped most of her body into a freezing cocoon. “P-please…” she mumbled, and immediately hated herself for it. Vampires had no conscience; no mercy; no pity. Begging would do no good.

There was no response. With a last bit of effort, April tried to look around to see if she could catch a glimpse of Rose, but the night was dark, and she could barely see out to the street. Hopefully, she had managed to escape.

Soon enough, the mist had covered her entirely, her thoughts slowing down and vision fading to black. Answers, and pleas, would have to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

When April came to and opened her eyes, she found herself staring directly into the crimson gaze of the vampire. She shrieked and jolted and tried to roll away—only to feel herself painfully pinned down, the Red Duchess’s sharp nails digging deep into her shoulders.

“Shh, my darling. Shh. I was only watching you,” she said, her tone soothing in stark contrast to the strength she was applying against the girl. “Your sleeping face was beautiful.”

April felt sick and terrified. It took a lot of strength not to openly start sobbing. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she counted to three before opening them again, tearing her eyes off the vampire to scan her surroundings.

She was still in her own pyjamas, in a room she had never seen before. Antique furniture, striped wallpaper that was subtly peeling off the walls, with wooden floor and ceiling. There was a small wardrobe, a vanity with a mirror and a single bed on which she was currently lying on, the vampire bent over her and holding her down with what looked like no effort at all. There were no windows anywhere within the room.

“Looking for something, darling?” The Duchess asked, her tone amused.

April didn’t respond. She swallowed instead, trying to get her racing heart to calm down. This was, probably, the vampiress’s lair. The lack of windows suggested they were somewhere underground. Clearly, the Red Duchess wanted something of her—but what? Why had she taken her? Why was she acting like this?

“Look at me,” the vampire said calmly.

“I-I won’t.” April said. “What do you want?” She tried to be defiant; instead, she just managed to sound scared.

“What do I want, hmm…?” The Duchess asked, relaxing her grip. Those nails no longer sunk quite so deep, and April found herself being able to breathe freely again. “I wonder that myself…”

That wasn’t much of an answer. April stayed silent.

“I know who you are, darling. Or who you think yourself to be. The daughter of a huntress. An acolyte yourself, I’m sure.”

April bit her lip and looked away, purposefully avoiding meeting the vampire’s gaze.

“That woman is in possession of… something. A tool or a weapon that she wishes to wield against me. I lured her away to search her house, and ordered you taken just in case you would happen to know anything of this matter. Would you, darling?”

This was news to April. If her mom really had a trump card against the Red Duchess, she hadn’t told her. Having something like that would certainly explain how her great grandfather had managed to almost defeat the vampiress, though. But she wasn’t about to let the vampire know a single thing; still looking away and keeping her silence, she tried to convey as little as possible with her body language.

“All in due time, I suppose,” the Duchess said, sitting down on the bed by April’s side. “In the first place, something far, far more important has come up. Next to that, the huntress’s actions are quite irrelevant.”

“…What do you mean?”

The vampiress fell silent for an uncomfortably long time. Though April was still avoiding those crimson eyes, she could feel her gaze on her. Finally, she spoke. “I am Yvonne, the Red Duchess,” she said, her voice distant. “And I had a daughter once.”

Something jingled in Yvonne’s hand; April peeked at it from the corner of her eye. It was a golden locket, shaped like heart, intricately carved and clearly antique. With a flick of the vampire’s finger, it was popped open, revealing a portrait within. It was an intricately painted image, if old and faded. The girl depicted within had sun-kissed hair and brown eyes, a humourless expression on her face. Her hair was long and straight, tucked behind her ears, her bangs cut short and parted. Except for the choice of haircut, there certainly was some resemblance to April herself. Was that why the Duchess had reacted in such a way before, upon seeing her face?

“She was lost,” Yvonne said, her tone almost a whisper. “She was… taken before I could save her. Before I could grant her the gift. It nearly broke me. I _was_ broken, until I had a revelation. I understood that nothing in this world truly dies, that nothing is ever _truly_ lost. That one day, the cruel fate that had taken her away would surely also return her to me…”

Yvonne reached for the girl again, brushing her cheek tenderly with the back of her pale, cold hand. Acting on reflex, cold chill passing down her spine, April pulled her face away. “I-I’m not…!”

The vampire grabbed April by her chin, her red nails again pushing deep against her soft skin. “But you are, my darling. I know you are. I can feel it,” she said. “This… this is my punishment. My daughter reborn and stolen away, given to my enemies, to those who would see me dead. But no more. I will be their plaything no more. I will take my fate into my own hands.”

“L-let go! That hurts!” April tried to pull free, but the vampire only dug in tighter.

“She was wilful too,” Yvonne said, wistfully. “My Amélie. A stubborn girl, but so sweet. So beautiful. I had to punish her, too, again and again and again. But it always worked. She would have grown into such a fine young lady…”

Vampires weren’t the bastions of sanity even under ordinary circumstances. Evelyn had always warned her daughter to never make any assumptions about how they would act. They were driven by hunger and perverse desires, not by any real logic. And the older a vampire was, the more pronounced their often-irrational behaviour became; over decades and centuries they would begin to develop strange habits and obsessions that would often revolve around the mortal life they had long since lost.

And, perhaps merely due to their resemblance, the Red Duchess had come to believe April was her long-lost daughter. It was insane, but such insanity was to be expected of someone like her. “G-get real…” April said, managing to finally sound defiant.

Yvonne slapped her. There was a sensation of sudden impact, April’s cheek burning cold, her ears ringing. It had been so fast she hadn’t seen it coming at all; the shock left her rattled, the bravado suddenly gone. Despite her best efforts, April could feel her eyes tearing up. No-one had ever slapped her before, and her body had no idea how to react to it. “I wasn’t expecting you to accept it,” Yvonne said, her tone frightfully calm. “Not immediately. But rest assured, my darling, you will come see the truth. And we will be reunited.”

Yvonne leaned closer, reaching in to kiss her on the cheek. Barely recovered from the slap, April tried to fight back and push the vampire away. But it was to no avail. The Duchess grabbed her by the wrist, twisting it just so, a pained whimper escaping April’s throat. “N-no!”

“So foolish,” Yvonne said, her voice tender. “But you will learn.” The vampire’s scarlet lips pressed against April’s cheek. It felt cold at first—and then, there was a sensation of pleasant numbness, warm and dizzying, spreading outwards in waves.

It was widely known that a vampire’s bite was addictive, but that was only half the story: it was their saliva, in truth, that gave it such properties. Even a touch of it upon one’s skin would trigger a sensation of intense euphoria, numbing one’s sensation of pain and lowering their inhibitions. That much was clear to April right now: a single kiss on her cheek had been enough to numb the pain of being slapped, forcefully relaxing her body and tricking her brain into releasing a burst of dopamine. It was humiliating, to feel this way. Having a monster like the Duchess make her feel _good_ was somehow much worse than being hit. It cemented the difference in power between them. Not only was Yvonne capable of killing April on the spot, she was also capable of making her feel better than she had ever felt, even against her own will.

“N-no matter what you do…” April said, her voice filled with hate towards the Duchess. “I’m never, _ever_ going to be your…”

Yvonne grabbed her by the throat, squeezing her windpipe just hard enough to make her choke. She struggled, despite knowing how pointless it was; the vampire’s grip was like an iron vice. Her other hand moved to the neckline of her pyjama shirt, her sharp nails tearing through the cloth as if it were a wet paper towel, leaving the young girl’s chest and stomach bare.

April couldn’t breathe. The edges of her vision were already growing dim. She would have sobbed if she could; the pain, fear and humiliation were just too much for her. She might have been a scion of a famed clan of vampire hunters, but she was still just a girl. And right now, she wanted to be back home safe hugging her mom. She just wanted the nightmare to end.

With a sweetly sensuous smile, the Red Duchess leaned forwards and kissed her just below her navel. And then again and again, planting a trail of kisses on the weakly struggling girl’s bare stomach until she would no longer move. Only then did she let go of her throat, giving April a chance to breathe again. “Now, my darling, look me in the eyes…”

There was a strange glow to the vampire’s gaze. Flecks of gold in the ruby depths of her eyes, fascinating and inviting, her dark pupils shrunk to needlepoints. Weak and delirious, her head clouded by the mind-numbing bliss of Yvonne’s repeated kisses, April almost gave in.

But it wasn’t enough. Despite all the fear and humiliation, pleasure and pain, she still found it within herself to hate and defy the vampire. She closed her eyes and turned away her head. Yvonne wouldn’t have the pleasure.

“So headstrong,” the Duchess sighed.

As infamous as vampires were for puppeteering the minds of mortals, even they could only do so much. One of the most important things that Evelyn had taught her daughter was the simple truth about their hypnotic gaze: it only affected you if you let it. As much as the vampires themselves pretended otherwise, you didn’t fall under their sway by just happening to catch their eyes. It took time, even from the most powerful of their kind, to fully mesmerise you—and before that happened, if you had any resolve left, you always had the option to look away.

Of course, that hardly stopped the vampire from retaliating if you refused. Yvonne grabbed April by her ponytail and yanked her towards her, drawing out a cry of pain. Bringing her lips close to her ear, she whispered. “…But mother still loves you.”

With April’s body already weak and numb from the repeated kisses, she didn’t even feel the fangs sing into the side of her neck. What she _did_ feel, however, was the wave of euphoria that followed. As potent as the kisses had been, getting an injection of that poisonous saliva directly into her bloodstream was a hundred times worse. Her thoughts became a jumbled mess; her body grew slack like a ragdoll; her eyes glazed over, all the pain and fear drowned by the pleasure. She was safe, surrounded by a soft warmth that left no room for anything else.

Was this how she would die? That wasn’t such a bad thought. Closing her eyes, she drifted off…


	5. Chapter 5

April jolted awake in panic, something metallic clinking by her feet. Her head hurt and her body ached. She was cold, and so, so thirsty. Feeling weak both physically and emotionally, a miserable sob escaped her throat as she tried to blink away the tears in her eyes and take in her surroundings.

Gone was warm bed and the antique furniture. Wherever April had been thrown, it was a far cry from the little bedroom she had seemingly been given before. She found herself within a dark dungeon, a distant electric light hidden behind the corner providing the bare minimum illumination. A blanket had been thrown over the cold stone floor to serve as a makeshift bedding; there was an empty steel bucket in the corner, presumably for waste. She had been chained to a wall, an iron shackle around her ankle. The ripped remnants of her pyjamas had been peeled off her, and no-one had seen fit to give her a replacement. Just barely within her reach was a pitcher filled with water. Picking it up with shaking hands, April drank deep, replenishing the fluids lost.

She was alive, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Setting down the pitcher and sitting down, she hugged her knees and began to cry. It didn’t last long: by the time she heard someone approach, she had already gotten it out of her system.

April’s visitor was a ghoul: a young woman with dead eyes and dark hair, dressed in the outfit of a traditional maid. “Courtesy of Mistress,” she said in a hollow voice, placing down a fresh pitcher of water and a tray of food, just within the reach of the chained girl. “Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

April covered herself with her hands and glanced up only briefly, her eyes meeting the empty gaze of the undead maid. _If she needs anything?_ It sounded like a bad joke. She was a prisoner, chained in a dungeon. There were plenty of things she needed, but chances are she wouldn’t be given them. Or maybe she would—but whatever the case, she was far too proud and spiteful to beg. A part of her wanted to ask about Rose, but she knew better than that. The Red Duchess would probably use any weakness against her; it was better not to bring her up at all. All April could do was to silently hope that her best friend had succeeded in her escape.

“Go away,” she mumbled, not moving a finger before the ghoul had curtsied and left. Awful as her circumstances were, the food at least looked decent: a plate of vegetable soup and freshly baked bread. Though a part of her considered a hunger strike, the hunger won out. She’d need the energy to think, anyway. And to resist.

After finishing with the food, April laid down in a foetal position, hugging herself to keep warm. It was time for her to get her thoughts straight. The only chance she’d ever have to get home alive was to come up with a plan. As her mother said, a hunter’s true asset was her wit. Considering April now had nothing else, that was a comforting enough thought.

If Yvonne truly believed her to be her long-lost daughter, she wouldn’t kill her. The vampire had had no qualms about causing her pain, but she had felt far too obsessed with that girl—Amélie—to give up on her delusion. That meant April was relatively safe, for the time being. But though the vampiress had not explicitly said it, her goal was easy enough to guess. Even if April didn’t like to think about it, there was one obvious thing Yvonne would want to do with her; she would want to turn her.

April nervously rolled over on her makeshift bedding, the chain around her ankle clinking. If Yvonne had wanted to turn her into a ghoul, she probably would have already done so. It would have been easy enough to drain her dry and reanimate her as an obedient minion—but clearly, that wasn’t her aim. She would want her daughter to be a true vampire like her, not an animated puppet. That, however, came with problems of its own.

A true vampire was ordinarily not under the control of the one who sired them. Their souls would turn black; they would be driven by an insatiable need for blood; they’d lose all empathy towards human beings and become nothing more than cruel monsters… but none of that meant they necessarily had any affection towards the one who turned them. Furthermore, vampires were generally incapable of change. The obsessions, the regrets, the hatred and love that a vampire carried as a mortal would be taken with them into unlife, if often warped and twisted beyond recognition.

Even if the Red Duchess were to turn April into a vampire, she still wouldn’t have her daughter. She had hit her, choked her and chained her; April was certain she genuinely hated her from the bottom of her heart. And should Yvonne turn her as she was now, she’d carry that hatred eternally in unlife, and there would be nothing the vampire could do about it. That would explain why nothing had been done to April yet. It gave her a reason to believe she’d be safe for the time being, and it meant she knew exactly what Yvonne would attempt to do.

The Duchess would try to break her. She would need to mould April’s mind into the shape she needed it to be _before_ turning her. All that April could do was to resist, for as long as she could, while waiting for rescue or a chance to escape. It really wasn’t much of a plan, but it was something to believe in and it gave her a glimmer of hope.

With no windows or clocks, it was difficult to estimate the passage of time. April rolled restlessly around on her blanket and tried to take a nap, but she found herself unable to remain calm. Eventually, there was a sound of footsteps—so soft they were almost inaudible, like a predator stalking her prey. Biting her lip, April sat up and covered herself with her arms to preserve what remained of her modesty.

An odd shiver passed through April’s chest as the Red Duchess walked into view. Even in the dimness of the dungeon, she was stunningly beautiful. She wore a form-fitting dress with ruffled hems that revealed just enough cleavage to draw one’s eyes to her ample chest; her long auburn hair was tucked behind her long pointed ears, her garnet earrings faintly reflecting the dim light pouring in from around the corner. There were heeled sandals on her feet, her toenails painted the same red the long, sharp nails on her fingers. The string of black pearls around her neck sharply contrasted her pale skin; her crimson eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark.

It was the sight of her smiling lips, though, that made April shudder. The sight of that glossy scarlet brought her mind back to the night before, when she had felt them kiss her over and over again, when they had finally parted to bite her…

“Oh, my darling,” Yvonne purred, stepping closer to the naked young girl. “Even like this, you truly are beautiful…”

“S-save it,” April mumbled, looking down. “The answer is no. Go away.”

“Mm.” The vampiress kneeled next to the girl. “That hairstyle does not suit you at all. My Amélie would always wear hers as her mother did,” she said, idly reaching to undo her ponytail.

April pulled her head back to escape her touch, and before she knew it, she found herself slammed against the wall, the chain around her ankle clattering. “U-ugh!”

The strange red mist that Yvonne had used to capture her was back, now wrapped around April’s neck and her wrists. It had come out of nowhere, solidified around her and thrown her against the wall, now holding her up at the vampire’s eye level. Though dizzy, April gritted her teeth and looked away in a fit of defiance, but there was nothing she could do about Yvonne sliding off her hair tie and gently stroking her head. “It hurts me to see like this, my darling,” she said. “But you need to learn.”

“I’m not your daughter! I—aaagh!” April screamed in pain. _Something_ had pierced her chest. Writhing in agony, she looked down; there was a spear formed from red mist, seemingly thrust through her chest though with no physical wound to be seen. But the pain was real, and it was almost too much to bear.

And as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. The vampire hunter’s daughter was left gasping in pain, her body shivering. Yvonne tilted her head up by her chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes—and once again, she refused, and closed her eyes. Even through all the fear and pain, she knew the consequences; she couldn’t afford to give the Duchess any hold of her mind.

“So be it,” Yvonne said flatly, and kissed her on the side of her neck. Once, twice, thrice—April squirming now not in pain, but in mind-numbing pleasure—only finally falling limp when the vampire’s fangs pierced her warm skin.

A part of April felt triumphant for having resisted the vampire again. But even that part was soon drowned out by a wave of empty bliss, warm darkness falling over her once again.


	6. Chapter 6

The same routine repeated for several days in a row. For the most part, April was left alone, with only the ghoul in the maid outfit occasionally bringing her food or a new bucket. And every day—if indeed days were passing, it was difficult to tell—Yvonne would return for another attempt. April would refuse her, and she would be abused, hurt and finally bitten, left to wake up alone and miserable. To say that it was wearing her out would have been an understatement: by the third day, April barely found it within herself to even eat, heavy haze of depression weighing her down. Daughter of a vampire hunter or not, she was just a child, and there was only so much she could bear, abused and lonely as she was.

But she had managed to build a shell around herself. Yvonne had gotten no closer to getting what she wanted. She could throw the girl around like a ragdoll, slap her and torture her as much as she pleased, but April found herself rapidly growing disassociated from it all. The pain might as well have been affecting someone else—and besides, it was always over quick. The Red Duchess’s kisses would always soon make it better, the mind-numbing bliss taking it all away.

Had April been in a state of mind for introspection, she would’ve realised most of her time now was spent looking forward to Yvonne’s visits. They were the only thing that would break up the monotony of being locked away, and after all the abuse and pain, the kisses that followed felt like a reward well-deserved.

When Yvonne eventually failed to show up when it felt she should have, April first attributed the feeling to her lost sense of time. But as hours passed, and as the maid returned to quietly bring her some breakfast, she understood what the game was. Already, her body was craving for those kisses, her mind flashing back to those alluring scarlet lips. She was trembling, not out of cold but out of desire, a sense of loneliness and longing growing within hour by hour. A vampire’s kiss was addictive—even a single bite could mean months of recovery for a hunter, lest they be tempted to feel it again. And April had been kissed and bitten repeatedly, then left here to rot with no other source of pleasure or comfort.

This, obviously, had been Yvonne’s goal all along. As far as April could tell, she had never been drained for much. The Duchess didn’t want to leave her too anaemic and weak; she only wanted her addicted, so deeply that she would come crawling to her voluntarily. Merely understanding her aim helped April very little, however. If anything, it made it worse: the knowledge that April could make this all stop if she just gave in and surrendered only served to further crumble her will.

When April dreamed, she dreamed of the Duchess. Of her touch and her silky voice in her ears; of her beautiful eyes and her cold lips, lovingly descending upon her over and over again, but that much-craved feeling of euphoria was never quite there. She woke up crying, tears streaming down her face for the first time in days, and it did not get any better from there. Every hour was worse than the next.

Ultimately, April only lasted a day. When the undead maid arrived to bring her dinner, April stared at her silence, struggling internally only until she turned around to leave. “H-hey…” she said. The ghoul turned around to stare blankly at her. April swallowed. “C-call her. Please.”

There was a nod, and the maid left. April was too exhausted to even be angry at herself.

Perhaps wanting to drive the point in, Yvonne kept the girl waiting. More than half an hour must have passed, April growing more and more desperate by the moment. A part of her couldn’t help but to think that the vampire really might have given up on her, and when she finally heard the light stalking steps of the Duchess’s heels, she hated herself for the joy and relief she felt. “My, you look miserable, my darling,” she purred in her lightly accented voice.

April raised her gaze to look at her, her eyes growing wet with tears again. That only seemed to delight the vampiress, who walked over and offered her a hand to help her up. After just some hesitation, April took it.

“I see you’ve already learned some manners, my darling,” Yvonne said, gripping her fingers gently. “You called for me. What is it that you wish?”

April looked down. She felt weak, and stupid. “…You know what I want,” she mumbled, half expecting to be punished for her back talk. But she wasn’t: instead, Yvonne pulled her into a cold hug.

“I know,” she said, her voice a silky whisper in April’s ear, eliciting a small shudder. “Will you do as you are told?”

Too tired to argue and too afraid of being further denied what she needed, April nodded. “…Yeah.”

“Good girl,” the Duchess said, kissing her on the cheek. “Good girl.”

And there it was. Warmth had returned to April’s life. The blanket of misery was pulled back, her body shuddering, a small sob escaping her throat. Just a single kiss was enough for a surge of happiness, for life to return to her limbs, for her to feel like a person once more. It wasn’t enough—it was nowhere near—but it was a start.

“Now…” The vampire pulled back and tilted April’s chin up. “Do as mother tells you.”

April’s brown eyes met with the Red Duchess’s crimson glare. Those flecks of gold begun to swim in their depths, their subtle glow pulling her straight in. There was still a chance to resist—she could still just look away or close her eyes. She didn’t have to give up now…

…but she did. She was too tired of fighting back. She wanted to be kissed again, to sleep in a proper bed, to be treated like a human again. April simply let it happen; she let herself sink into those beautiful depths, her mind growing empty, all her resistance fading away. It was so very easy to let happen once she finally let go; there was comfort in surrender, her will slowly melting away under the gaze of the beautiful vampiress.

April could have studied those crimson eyes for hours, their brilliant depths endlessly fascinating to her. Only after a good long while did Yvonne break eye contact, though, stepping back and crouching down to unlock the manacle around the girl’s ankle. April’s mind, though, remained sunken deep. She only had just enough consciousness left to idly observe her current state, but her free will and those feelings of pain and fear, guilt and sorrow, were now locked away so very, very deep.

“Good girl,” Yvonne said. Her voice was crystal clear in April’s mind, in sharp contrast to everything else. The metallic clink of the chain as the vampire put it away sounded distant and muted. The world around April was blurry and vague. It was like being underwater, or asleep. Though her mind noted how strange it all felt, there was no fear associated with it. Just an idle curiosity, at best. “Take my hand, darling. Let’s get you out of here.”

April did as told, her hand reaching out for Yvonne’s own even before what was left of her conscious mind could interpret the order. The vampire squeezed her fingers reassuringly and walked her out. April followed; she had no will of her own, no desires of her own, those crimson eyes still burned to the back of her mind. Disobedience was out of question; even the idea of it didn’t enter the girl’s mind.

And so, she found herself following the Duchess out of her prison, her legs moving on their own with no input required from her part. There was a hallway outside, masqueraded to look like it might’ve belonged to some old manor, with a wooden floor and wood-panelled walls. In reality, it was plain to see they were underground, with no windows in sight and a bit of cement visible between ceiling boards. Perhaps they were in an old bunker or bomb shelter, redecorated to suit the tastes of the aristocratic vampire who had to live underground during hours of daylight. Perhaps—but it didn’t matter. It was just an idle observation made by April’s semi-conscious mind as she sleep-walked behind the Duchess, still utterly mesmerised by her.

“You stink, darling,” Yvonne said, some humour in her tone. “So, we’ll fix that first. Right this way.”

April found herself in a luxurious little bathroom, a bath already drawn for her. Hot, bubbly water in a porcelain tub; April could tell it looked inviting. Having had no way to clean herself during her imprisonment, she had felt dirty and miserable. Now, she didn’t feel like much anything, but as she was gently lifted by the vampire and placed into the tub, it was clear enough to her what she was expected to do. Slowly and meticulously, she rinsed her body and washed her hair, letting all the dust, grime and waste wash away. Eventually, when she judged herself to be sufficiently clean, she stood up and stepped out, letting the Duchess pat her dry with a towel. “There we go, darling. Wasn’t that nice?” she asked.

“Yes,” April found herself responding. A simple, clear answer, given with no intonation. But it was the truth. She did feel nice: for the first time in many days, she was warm, clean and with nary a single worry in her mind. Some part of her still understood that she should have felt shame and disgust having a monster like her watch her bathe, but the emotions simply weren’t there, and she felt all the better for it.

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, stroking April’s wet hair for a bit before taking her hand again. “This way, my darling.”

The vampire hunter’s daughter found herself escorted back to the small bedroom she had first woken up in. Sitting down on the bed, Yvonne patted the spot next to her, and April obediently followed in suit.

“You are so very pretty, my darling,” the Duchess said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s waist, stroking her cheek with her other hand. “Like a precious doll. This look much better suits you.”

April didn’t respond, but she silently agreed with the words. She did feel like a doll.

Once again, the vampire’s eyes began to glow. If April had been in any danger of snapping out of her hypnotised state, she certainly wasn’t anymore. Caught staring into those deep crimson eyes, held snugly by the Duchess, she felt her mind begin to float. It was the ultimate comfort: a sense of weightlessness, her consciousness drifting free, the silky material of the vampire’s red dress caressing her bare skin.

“Do you want to get more kisses from mother?” Yvonne purred.

“Yes,” April said, her tone dreamy.

“Good girls will get kisses. Will you be a good girl?”

“I will.”

April’s answer had an immediately reward. Yvonne reached down and kissed her on the cheek, breaking eye contact only for a moment. April could feel the beat of her heart slowing down, every muscle in her body relaxing. Even through her emptied mind, she could feel that surge of warmth and pleasure, as intense as ever.

“You don’t need to be scared anymore. You don’t need to be hurt. If you just obey your mother, and do as you’re told, everything will be fine,” Yvonne said, stroking the girl’s thigh. “Because mother loves you very much. And mother will never, ever hurt you, unless she must.”

The words poured into April’s receptive mind, nestling comfortably somewhere deep into her subconsciousness. She kept staring into the Duchess’s eyes in quiet wonder.

“Are my eyes pretty, darling?” she asked.

“Yes,” April responded.

There was another kiss, this time on the opposite cheek. Another little reward. “From now on, you must never look away when your mother wants you to look. From this day on, you’ll never shy away from my eyes. If you do, you will be punished. And I will have to hurt you, again and again, until you learn.” Yvonne’s tone was deathly calm. “Do you understand, darling?”

“I do,” April said.

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, gently lowering April down to the bed on her back. “You belong to mother, now. You’re my precious daughter, my beautiful doll. After all these years, all mine again, to be forever by my side…” Taking April’s hand, the Duchess kissed each finger individually before leaving a trail of cold kisses as she traversed down the length of her arm. She leaned down to kiss the hypnotised girl on her collarbone and her neck, before whispering into her ear. “Now, will you let mother have another taste?”

“…Yes,” April said, breathing heavily, the pleasure brought forth by Yvonne’s addictive saliva spreading in waves through her small body. With a dull smile on her face, she tilted her head to surrender her neck to the monster.


	7. Chapter 7

The bedroom was infinitely more comforting than the cold prison April had been chained in, but in the end, her circumstances hadn’t much changed. The chain might have been gone, but she was still a prisoner—and with the way she had given in to the Red Duchess in that moment of weakness, she might have been worse off now than before.

Someone had left her a neatly folded set of nightwear, a black satin robe with a hem of lace. While quite different from the plaid pyjamas she was used to wearing, she had little choice but to put it on. The alternative would have been continuing to go around in the nude, and April still wished to retain some shame and dignity despite all that had been taken from her. She frowned as she looked herself over in the mirror: while it was just her size, it didn’t exactly suit her tastes. The low neckline and the way it hugged her body felt a bit too mature, and she shivered a bit as she imagined the eyes the Duchess upon her.

There was a bitter taste in April’s mouth. She had lost the battle against Yvonne yesterday, and she hated herself for it. April only had a vague memory of the events that transpired after she had allowed herself to be mesmerised by that crimson gaze. She could remember the sensation of acceptance and calm, the hot bath and being led back to her room—but she had no recollection of what the vampire had said to her, or how the day had ended. No doubt she had planted plenty of ideas into her vulnerable subconsciousness; April felt not much different now than before, but could she trust her mind now that it had been compromised?

As April’s mom had taught her, a good hunter was keenly aware that vampires often had mortal agents to help them. Most of them, though, were cajoled by wealth, power and promises of immortality—or they were simply intimidated into obedience. Only rarely did a vampire use their abilities to brainwash mortals to work for them; it was simply inefficient to do so. It was a meticulous affair, requiring multiple applications of hypnosis, and a lot of time and effort. April wasn’t even close to being there yet, but no doubt Yvonne would keep at it until she broke.

Her mind returning to her mom—her _real_ mom—April felt a lump in her throat. Having given in to Yvonne, even for a moment, felt like betrayal. And though she knew her mom would forgive her, she wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself. When April had been younger, she had had nightmares of her mom being turned. It was the scariest thing she could have imagined, and right now, she risked it happening to her. What had it been like for her mom to discover she had gone missing? She must have figured out that a vampire had taken her. Was she presuming April dead? Turned? Animated as a ghoul? Or was she still holding up hope she was alive and well? Knowing her mom, ever the optimist, it must have been the latter.

And if Evelyn Thorberg wasn’t the type to give up, neither was her daughter. Having had some time to think things through, April’s situation didn’t seem bad as it could have been. While the battle had been lost, the war wasn’t over. She might have let Yvonne wrest control of her mind once, but that didn’t mean she was hers yet—there was still time to come with a plan and to find an opening. Or at the very least, hope for her mom and the other hunters to come to her rescue.

In her sudden burst of excitement, April even half-considered trying to fashion a stake for herself from the materials in her bedroom, but she quickly dismissed that thought. Even if she somehow managed to, for example, whittle one of the bed legs down into a useable stake, she wouldn’t have the strength to do anything useful with it, not without mechanical aid like her crossbow. That is, unless she somehow happened to catch the Duchess sleeping.

Walking up to the door, she tried the handle. It was unlocked, the way to the corridor clear. If fighting back wasn’t an option, perhaps escape would be—but there was no chance the Red Duchess would merely leave the front door to her lair unlocked, was there? In the first place, she still didn’t know where she was. The cement walls hidden behind the wood panelling suggested they were somewhere underground. That wasn’t too unexpected: many more security-minded vampires tended to like making their homes entirely subterranean, giving them maximum security from sunlight during daytime. April’s mother had told her that quite a few had been found lurking in abandoned wartime shelters, but given the size of this place, the Duchess’s lair didn’t seem to be a mere shelter. The vampire had lived for centuries. Chances are, she had amassed enough wealth to simply have something like this purpose built for herself. An entire mansion securely built underground.

The thought made April’s heart sink. If that was the case, it was unlikely for the place to be found by her mom or any other hunter. But then again, she was an amazing investigator, and if it was her daughter that had gone missing, she would certainly pull out all the stops. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance.

Before April had the chance to investigate the place further, she heard footsteps around the corridor. Her first reflex was to hide, but that would have been silly—it wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong. So instead, she just stood her ground.

It was the maid. If not for the ashen skin and empty eyes, she would’ve been quite pretty; the maid outfit, at least, was cute. “Good evening, Lady Amélie,” she said in her hollow tone. “I have brought you a change of clothes.” She was carrying what looked like a red dress, folded neatly in her arms.

“It’s April,” April said bitterly. “Can’t you bring me any normal clothes instead?”

The ghoul slowly shook her head. “These are Mistress’s orders.”

April did have some pity for the ghoul. No doubt she was one of Yvonne’s victims, drained empty and reanimated to be a personal servant. It was sick, really, not giving her prey peace even in death—but that much was to be expected of a vampire. “Fine, whatever,” April said. “Where is she, anyway?”

Walking past the girl, the maid entered the room and set the dress down on a chair before starting to make the bed. “Mistress is currently away,” she said plainly. “I do not know when she will come back.”

April watched the ghoul at work. Slow as her movements were, she was meticulously good at her job. “Can I walk around? Is there anywhere I can’t go?”

“You may go anywhere that is not locked,” the maid responded. “This home is your home, Lady Amélie.”

What a bad joke. April frowned. “I guess I’ll take a look around.”

“There will be some food ready for you in a short order,” she said, turning to April. “Is there anything else you desire?”

April thought a bit. “What’s your name?”

“Celeste, Lady Amélie.”

“Right,” April said. “Okay.” She didn’t really need to know that—who cared what the name of a ghoul was? But having known her for days now, she had felt weird not having anything to call her by. “That’s all, I guess.”

Celeste gave her a curtsey and left. April glanced at the dress on the chair and decided she wouldn’t need it: the red cloth too much resembled the outfits the Duchess wore much, and she wasn’t going to voluntarily play her games. Grudgingly satisfied with her nightgown for now, April headed back out to explore the house.

As it turned out, the vampire’s lair was even bigger than April had anticipated. There must have been some twenty different rooms, ranging from several bedrooms and a dining room to a sizeable library and even an actual little ballroom. All of this built underground, hidden and secure. No expense had been spared, it seemed: April wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about antiques or architectural styles, but a great effort had been spent to make the lair look like a proper manor, with gold-framed paintings, beautiful carpeting and intricate candelabras. Vampires were often obsessed with their time as a mortal; perhaps Yvonne was trying to imitate the place of her birth or the house she lived in before being turned. If so, she must have been fabulously rich. The Red Duchess might have indeed been a duchess in her mortal life.

Only two doors were locked, the sturdier of which must have been Yvonne’s own bedroom. A vampire only needed a couple of hours of sleep, but they were at their most vulnerable during that time, with hardly anything able to wake them up from their deathlike coma. It was that state that vampire hunters exploited to slay them, discovering their lairs and breaking in to pierce their hearts. It stood to reason that Yvonne wanted to make sure her bedroom was as protected as possible from outside invaders.

The set of locked double doors at the end of a short upwards staircase must have been the way out of the lair. April had tried pushing and pulling, but they wouldn’t even rattle. She would need a key, but it was unlikely one had been simply left lying around. Insane as she was in her own way, Yvonne would have certainly anticipated April trying to break out, and she would not have let her walk around freely if there really was a way out for her.

But there was little else for April to do. She spent much of the day digging through every corner of the vampire’s lair, searching for a key or anything else that might help her. While she tried to somewhat hide her actions from Celeste, it didn’t seem as if the maid cared overly much, focusing almost mechanically on her duties.

Much later, after April had given up for the day and withdrawn into the library to take her mind out of her plight, the Duchess returned home. “Darling,” April heard her voice out in the hallway. “Where are you? Come see your mother.”

April sighed, putting her book away with some reluctance. As much as she disliked the idea of obeying the vampire, there wasn’t much point in fighting a petty battle like this. Shuffling her feet, she stepped out into the corridor.

“There you are. Oh, my darling Amélie, have you not changed out of your sleepwear? That is no way for a proper young lady to behave,” Yvonne chided her. “But perhaps some fault blames with me. I should have given you explicit instructions.”

April didn’t bother to hide her disgust. No matter how much this vampire pretended otherwise, April wasn’t Amélie and she already had a mother. Biting her lip, she looked down.

The Red Duchess hardly seemed bothered by this. “And how was your day, darling? Was the library to your pleasing? If there are any books you wish us to acquire, you need but to ask.”

April kept silent, seething with anger with a lump in her throat. This farce of a domestic conversation made her sick to her core.

The vampire stepped closer, placing a hand on April’s shoulder. “I asked you a question, darling. Did you like the library?”

“…Yeah,” April said, offering nothing more, suppressing the urge to tell the vampire not to touch her.

“Not ‘yeah’, Amélie,” Yvonne chided. “Try ‘yes, mother’.”

A cold chill of fear ran down April’s spine, but she didn’t want to give the monster the pleasure. She could torture her all she pleased, but she would never be her mother. Biting her lip again, she kept silent.

“I see,” Yvonne said. “Time for another lesson, I suppose. This way, darling.”

The vampire let go of her shoulder and gestured at her to follow. Not wanting to dig herself into a deeper hole, April hesitantly followed, her gaze affixed to her feet.

The Duchess led her back to her room. “It would appear,” she said quietly. “That your discipline thus far has been insufficient. A child exists for the sake of her parents. While some independence may be earned, insubordination must not be tolerated.” She sat down on the bed. “Take off your gown.”

April froze. “W-why should I…” she mumbled, though her legs felt stiff with fear.

“Do not ask ‘why’, darling,” Yvonne said in a low tone. “You need only do as your mother tells you to.”

All the pain and terror April had felt being chained to that wall came flooding back. The Duchess’s tone suggested a return to all that, and more, and she wasn’t the type to bluff. Wilful as April might have been, the fear won out. Stiffly, she pulled off the black satin gown she’d been given, exposing her bare flesh to the piercing gaze of the vampire.

“Good,” Yvonne said, patting her lap. “Lay down here, on your stomach. Rest your head against the pillow.”

Though April had never been spanked before, she recognised what was about to happen. The worst her real mom had ever punished with was by suspending her allowance or forcing her to clean the house. Some part of her wanted to run, or to beg for lenience, but her pride won out. And besides, she had been hurt far worse by Yvonne—there was no chance a few slaps on her buttocks would hurt as much as the spear of red mist through her guts had. So, swallowing the lump in her throat, she obeyed the vampire, nervously laying down with her stomach on her lap and her butt in the air.

“Do you have anything to say, darling?” Yvonne asked, resting her cold fingers against April’s rump.

April did not. Gritting her teeth, she stayed quiet.

The smack that followed hurt more than April expected it to. Yvonne wasn’t holding back. The shock and the pain of the impact stole April’s breath away, her shoulders trembling a bit as her rear burned hot. The next hit came before she had properly braced herself for it, and the next followed right after. It took the girl some effort not to whimper out loud, her face buried deep into the pillow.

“Do you have anything to say?” Yvonne asked again, her tone level.

“S-sorry…” April mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

There was another smack, this time on the other cheek.

“I-I said I’m sorry!”

Yvonne struck again, silently, this time with what felt even more strength. With both of her buttocks burning red, April was left gasping for breath.

“F-fine,” she said, her voice quavering. She didn’t want to say it, but what choice did she have? Knowing the vampire, she would keep escalating things until she broke. “I-I’m sorry, mother.”

“What are you sorry about, darling?”

“F-for not calling you mother…” she said, her voice breaking as she fought back the tears.

“Good,” Yvonne said, stroking the girl’s inflamed rump. “You understand that you needed to be punished, yes?”

“Y-yes,” April mumbled, desperate for this to be over with. “I mean… y-yes, mother.”

“Good. Then thank me.”

“W-what?” April asked incredulously. She was rewarded with another strong slap, a painted cry escaping her lips.

“Thank me for spending my time to discipline you, darling,” Yvonne said patiently.

The humiliation was almost too much for April to bear. The Duchess was stripping her of any dignity and agency she thought she had. It was so unfair she wanted to cry, and with her pride in tatters, she almost did. “T-thank you… mother,” she finally said, clenching her throat to force back a sob.

“Good. Now turn around for me.”

April did, rubbing her face against the pillow first to dry her tears. Her expression was miserable.

“Look mother in the eyes, darling. Don’t shy away, now,” Yvonne said, a smile on her red lips as she leaned in closer. There were golden flecks of light in her deep crimson eyes, inviting the girl to look deeper, once again ready to entrap her will.

April sniffed, and did as told. The thought of defiance didn’t even enter her mind, now—and besides, there was some comfort in that gaze. Mesmerised, she could distance herself and let that shame and pain just slide away…

“You poor thing,” Yvonne said as the young girl’s body slowly grew slack and her expression dull. “Have you learned your lesson, yet?”

“Yes… yes, mother,” April mumbled, feeling weightless on the vampire’s lap. Her buttocks still hurt, burning hot and tender, but the pain might as well have belonged to someone else.

“You are breaking your mother’s heart, acting like this,” Yvonne said softly, still gazing deep into April’s brown eyes. “This is your own fault, darling. You forced my hand. You deserved this.”

Some part of April, deep within, recognised those words for the cruel lies they were. But with Yvonne’s crimson gaze holding her mind its hostage, those thoughts never had a chance to fully materialise, and the guilt soon hit her like a tidal wave. There must have been some truth to what the vampire said—if she wasn’t hadn’t done anything bad, why did she feel this way right now, so sad and pitiful? “I-I’m sorry, mother,” she said, some genuine remorse in her otherwise hollow voice.

Yvonne smiled, gently brushing her cheek with the back of her pale hand. “Shh,” she said soothingly. “I’m sorry, my darling, but mother has to do what she must. So here is what is going to happen: I will give you ten more good smacks, and then I’ll forgive you. After that, mother will kiss you and make it all better. Do you understand?”

Caught in hypnosis as she was, April had no resistance left to give. She knew she didn’t want to be spanked again, but she had to accept it needed to be done. “Yes, mother,” she said in a small voice, obediently turning around and exposing her sore posterior so the punishment could continue.

Hypnosis made the pain no less severe, but it was easier to accept. April cried out quietly with every hit as Yvonne alternated between her cheeks, her small body trembling in pain. But when it was finally over, there was a palpable sense of relief. Not just because the smacks stopped, but also because it meant that Yvonne would forgive her. The guilt that had weighed on her was suddenly gone, a sense of relief in its place.”

“And what do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry, mother. Thank you,” April repeated almost mechanically.

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, and rewarded her as promised. Adjusting the girl on her lap and leaning down, she gave two big kisses, one on each cheek of her rump.

April shivered and sighed, the spreading numbness taking away the pain. The vampire pulled her up close, holding her tight in a cold embrace. Once again, April found herself face to face with those beautiful red eyes, a content smile on her lips.

“Mother loves you very much,” Yvonne cooed. “You’ll always be her little girl.”

April breathed shallow, a dreamy look in her brown eyes. She responded with a faint nod.

“Does my little darling want more kisses?”

“Yes, mother,” April responded.

Yvonne kissed her, this time on the mouth. It came as a surprise; the mesmerised girl didn’t quite know how to react, but she was eager to accept the vampire’s sweet, addictive saliva along with her affections. The kiss was deep and mature, Yvonne’s scarlet lips forcing hers open, her tongue sliding inside and brushing against her own. It felt far better than any other kiss so far, the blissful heat spreading through her whole body, making it shiver with pleasure and need.

Only after a few long moments did Yvonne finally pull back, a trail of saliva still connecting their mouths until she spoke. “This is the reward for obedience, my darling. For submitting to my will.”

April didn’t know what to say. Instead, she slowly hugged the vampire and rested her head against her breasts, snuggling her body against the soft cloth of her red dress.

Yvonne stroked her hair and begun to sing in a foreign language. It sounded like a lullaby; though April couldn’t recognise the words, it was a calming tune, and she soon found her eyes fluttering shut. And when the song was over, she was laid down on the bed, Yvonne once again letting herself have a taste of April’s life’s blood.


	8. Chapter 8

“Lady Amélie?” the maid said, knocking on April’s door. “Your mother wishes to see you.”

“…Okay,” April responded. “Give me… give me a bit.”

“I will wait outside,” Celeste said flatly.

April had been emotionally numb ever since waking up. As much as she tried to hate herself for her weakness, or Yvonne for doing this to her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. She didn’t have much hope left, either; yesterday had suggested there was no way out, and as much as she wanted to believe in her mom, it was seeming increasingly unlikely she would ever find her. The Thorbergs had been trying to track down the Red Duchess for generations—what were the chances she would find her now? How long could April possibly last before she broke?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, April quickly dressed up, putting on the red dress given to her yesterday, not wanting to keep the vampire waiting. As the nightgown had before, the dress fit her perfectly. Made from ruby cloth, the dress had a slim waist and a flowy skirt that reached down to her shins; it was certainly pretty, and it was most assuredly nothing April would have been caught dead wearing back in her former life. She had always been jeans-and-t-shirt sort of a girl; she had barely ever even worn a skirt, and the dress she now had to wear was fit for fancy dining party in some long-gone era.

April gave herself a quick awkward spin in front of the mirror. The dress left her back and her shoulders bare; it was embarrassing, but she would have to bite her lip and bear with it.

Again, she could barely remember anything about what had happened after she had been hypnotised. She did remember the extra spankings and the kiss that followed; just thinking back on that made her shiver. The way the Duchess looked at her, with that predatory, possessive gaze—it made her feel strange and uncomfortable in a way she had never felt like before.

“I’m coming,” she told the maid, breathing deep to calm herself down. That’s right—just bear with it. Bear with it and keep hoping, against all common sense. What else was there to do?

“Right this way, my lady,” Celeste said after April had stepped out of her room. “Your mother has summoned you to her bedchambers.”

 _She’s not my mother_ , April thought, but she didn’t bother arguing with the ghoul. The word ‘bedchambers’ caused some worry as well, her body involuntarily shuddering as she was once again reminded of the kiss they had shared before. Amidst the vague blur of her hypnotised mind, that alone stood as a moment of clarity, her feelings from back then burned bright into her heart.

Before long, they were at the door that had been locked the day before, now invitingly ajar. Celeste opened it full and gestured for April to enter.

So, this was the heart of the vampire’s lair. A luxurious room with red carpeting and beautiful works of art, an antique writing desk and even a small crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. As expected of a duchess’s bedchambers, it was as elegant and luxurious as it got. Even her bed was elaborate and inviting, with a canopy and ruffled curtains, half a dozen red satin pillows atop its covers. It was all a bit much, but April had to admit that it fit the Duchess’s style.

“Here you are, my darling,” Yvonne said, gesturing her closer. “And you’re wearing the dress! Come closer, let mother have a look.”

Keeping her gaze down, April stepped into the bedroom proper, presenting herself to the Duchess.

“Spin around for me, darling,” Yvonne said.

April did, only briefly glancing up at the monster claiming to be her mother.

Yvonne seemed pleased. “It’s beautiful. And it fits you well,” she said. “A proper young lady is always at her best. With your natural looks, there is no excuse for you not to be as beautiful as you can be.” She crouched down a bit, smiling and playfully touching April’s nose. “But don’t worry, my little doll. Mother will help you with that.”

The smile on the vampire’s face suggested she was expecting something, and April was quite sure she knew what it was. “…Thank you, mother,” she said, her voice ringing hollow as she averted her gaze.

The words hadn’t exactly come from April’s heart, but they seemed sufficient for the Duchess for now. “Celeste, please leave us.”

The maid curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her. April was left alone with the vampiress, feeling like a mouse in the grip of a tiger.

“Now, let us see…” Yvonne mumbled, idly brushing aside a strand of hair from April’s cheek. “Your ears are pierced, I see. How about cosmetics? Are you used to them, my darling?”

April blinked. It only just now truly dawned on her that, for someone who claimed to be her mother, Yvonne clearly didn’t know a single thing about her. In fact, until now, she had never even bothered asking. She didn’t know what foods she liked, or what her hobbies were, or what her favourite subject in school was. She didn’t know what kind of music she listened to, what her friends were like or what her sense of fashion was. If she really cared about her as much as she claimed, why wouldn’t she have at least tried to get to know her better?

The answer was obvious. She _didn’t_ care, because to her, who April was was irrelevant—inconvenient, even. April didn’t matter, Amélie did. April was just someone for Yvonne to project the image of her darling daughter on, and any parts of April that weren’t Amélie would just be in the way.

In her twisted way, Yvonne had made April feel desired by her, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. She wanted April gone. And with her hypnotic gaze and her sadistic manipulation, she’d eventually accomplish just that. She would make her wear the dresses she wanted her to wear, like the things she wanted her to like and address her the way she wanted to be addressed, until she’d be in the twisted image of her lost daughter and everything that made April who she would be gone.

Being erased like that—in a way, it was even scarier than death. April felt sick; she must have _looked_ sick, too, Yvonne blinking with surprise and concern as she watched the expression on April’s face. “What is it, my darling? Is there something—”

“N-no!” April yelled, turning around and running for the door. She did not get that far: the red mist appeared again out of nowhere, coagulating around her ankles and making her trip onto the vampire’s carpeted floor.

“Shh, shh,” Yvonne said. “It’s okay. Come here…”

The mist wrapped around April’s body. It floated her up and brought her straight back to Yvonne. April could only look at her in terror as she reached in and kissed her once on both cheeks, that sense of satisfaction and euphoria once again doing their work to dull her mind. “P-please, no…” April mumbled, but her voice got caught in her throat. She found herself gazing into the vampire’s hypnotic stare again, unable to look away, the dread in her heart quickly dragged down into sweet darkness where it would no longer cause her distress.

“What is wrong, Amélie?” Yvonne asked gently, soothingly stroking her hair. “What frightened you so?”

“I-I don’t want to be… erased,” April responded, her captive mind struggling to put her emotions into words. “…I don’t want to be Amélie.”

The vampire stayed silent for a while, her expression unreadable. Perhaps she was thinking about what to say, or perhaps she was struggling with some inscrutable emotions of her own. Finally, she smiled, placing her hands on both of April’s cheeks and planting a single kiss on the tip of her nose. “Oh, my poor darling. I understand. With all that you’re going through, you must be so confused.”

The kiss made April feel a bit better. She gave a tiny nod.

“These past days must have been so hard on you,” Yvonne continued. “So difficult. So tiring. Again and again you’ve worn yourself out, fruitlessly fighting back against the inevitable while trying to find answers that simply aren’t there.”

Yvonne was right. April did feel tired. The weight of the past days felt heavy on her shoulders, a feeling of grey misery washing over her. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she _had_ to fight, but that didn’t stop her from wishing she didn’t. Her shoulders trembled a bit as she kept staring up into the vampire’s mesmerising gaze.

“You don’t have to do this,” Yvonne said sweetly. “You don’t have to struggle, my darling. You’re just a little girl. You don’t even have to think about anything scary. Your mother is here to take care of you.”

It was such a sweet, alluring lie. Even in her hypnotised state of mind, April was aware of the poison within Yvonne’s word. But they also carried a grain truth with them: she _was_ tired, and scared, and confused. And giving into that suffocating love that the vampiress was showering her with would be a chance to rest. To just be the child she really was.

“Will you let me, darling?”

April could feel something breaking inside of her, some inner wall built deep within her finally crashing down. She could feel hot tears streaming down her face as she answered, not compelled by the hypnosis, but gushing forth from the bottom of her heart. “…Yes, mother.”

Yvonne kissed her on the lips. It was the lightest of pecks, a far cry from yesterday’s passionate embrace. But even then, the wave of heat and pleasant tingles was a reward enough. It banished the pain and made her feel cared for—and even if this love was built on lies, that was enough for her right now. She had nothing else.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you comfortable, darling?”

“Yes, mother.”

Yvonne had comforted April for a while, hugging her and holding her close. After some time, she had led her to an antique chair in front of a mirror and sat her down. April stared at her own reflection; her eyes looked tired and her skin a bit pale. Though Yvonne was barely feeding on her, the repeated bites kept adding up and she was slowly losing blood. No wonder she felt so tired and listless.

The hypnosis was slowly wearing off, leaving April’s mind in an odd in-between state in which she didn’t even know if she was still mesmerised or not. Either way, it was easy and comforting to just let her head remain empty, to not think about anything at all. There was some strange freedom in it, doing exactly as you’re told, absolved of all guilt and responsibility.

“Now,” Yvonne said, picking a pair of silver scissors from the table she had set up next to April’s seat. “Let’s see what we can do about this hair of yours, hm?”

Snip, snip. The vampire cropped her bangs, trimmed the tips and tucked her hair behind her ears, making her look all that much closer to the painting of the girl inside her locket—all that much closer to Amélie. “Mother will make you so beautiful,” Yvonne said. “Every girl wants to be pretty. You want to be pretty for mother too, don’t you, darling?”

“I do, mother,” April responded quietly. Did she really? It didn’t matter.

“Now, let’s see,” Yvonne said, rubbing April’s cheek with her cold thumb. “Mortal skin is so oily. We have some work ahead of us, darling…”

The most April had ever used was lip gloss. She had never been the type to care about her looks all that much, just doing what she needed to be presentable. Neither did her mom—her _real_ mom—spend much effort on such things. Maintaining high standards of feminine beauty was difficult in her line of work, both as a vampire hunter and a lorry driver.

Yvonne, meanwhile, took it to the next level. She hummed softly as she performed her magic on April, a dizzying array of brushes, sponges, creams and powders at her disposal. She applied primer and foundation, dabbing her face with a soft brush. Every now and then, she would stroke her hair or gently kiss her on the back of her neck, as a sign of love and reward for good behaviour. The old April would’ve quickly grown restless under treatment like this, but right now, this was exactly what she wanted: sitting still and being pampered, her mind empty and free of worry.

The vampiress applied some subtle blush and eyeliner before moving on to the lips. “Look up here, darling,” she cooed, stroking April’s chin and tilting her head back. April did as told, breathing slow and staying still as a statue. It felt as if she was drifting away, the chair underneath her soft and comfy, her eyes fluttering shut as Yvonne applied colour to her lips.

It wasn’t just April’s face that Yvonne was paying attention to. She took the time to further comb her hair and add some red polish to her nails; she found her a pair of ruby stud earrings and a necklace of pearls, white in contrast to the string of black around her own neck. By the time Yvonne was done, April might as well have been a miniature version of her. The same scarlet lips, a red dress and red nails, a look of cold regal beauty. Her complexion was different, of course, as were her eyes—still brown instead of crimson. She was most assuredly still human, but looking at herself through the mirror, she felt as if she might as well really have been Yvonne’s daughter, now. April could barely recognise herself: the athletic, ponytailed girl had been replaced by a doll-like beauty in a ruby dress.

Some part inside of her wanted to scream and wake up from this nightmare, but April was done fighting for the day. It was much easier for her to just distance herself, and to pretend that girl in the mirror wasn’t even her.

“Look at you, darling,” Yvonne said, stepping in front of April and smiling at her. “You’re absolutely perfect. More beautiful, still, than I could have even imagined.”

April offered a tiny nod.

“Now, darling, it’s time again to look mother in the eyes…” Yvonne said again, once again inviting April to fall under her will.

Breathing out softly, April let herself succumb.

“Repeat after me, darling,” Yvonne purred. “I’m mother’s beautiful little doll.”

The words that came out of April’s mouth were hollow and weary. “I’m mother’s beautiful little doll…”

“I’ll always look pretty for mother.”

“I’ll always look pretty for mother…”

“When my mother is happy, I’m happy.”

“When… when my mother is happy, I’m happy.”

“Mother loves me very much.”

“Mother loves me very much.”

April was rewarded with a kiss to her painted lips. Yvonne lifted her up from the chair and hugged her, stroking her back left bare by her dress. April could see an empty gaze staring back at her through her reflection in the mirror. Was that girl April, or Amélie? Would there soon be a difference at all?


	10. Chapter 10

“Again, darling,” Yvonne said patiently. “Rest on the ball of your foot and keep it a single smooth motion.”

“Yes, mother.” April curtsied again.

“Better. But remember—keep your back straight.”

Yvonne had kept April busy through the day, giving her very little time to rest and collect her thoughts. She had instructed her in how to speak and how to greet, how to walk and how to sit. She had made her recite poetry for a while, and now it was time for lesson in general etiquette. The occasional kiss and a repeated application of mild hypnosis only further served to both help April fully absorb her lessons and to keep her mind too off-balance to be able to question any of it.

Not that she really wanted to, anymore. It was easier to think that all of this was happening to Amélie, not her. If it had been April going along with the vampiress’s twisted games, it would have been a betrayal of her mom and everything she had raised her to believe in. But if she buried April somewhere deep, there was no harm in any of this. There was no reason to feel guilty about enjoying Yvonne’s kisses and affections, or in letting her thoughts be moulded by her hands.

“Like this, mother?” she asked, curtseying once more.

“Perfect, my darling,” Yvonne said, rewarding her with a kiss on the forehead. “Now, let’s practice until it comes as natural to you as breathing…”

By the time they were finished, April’s legs hurt, and her stomach growled. Celeste had prepared her dinner, but even that wasn’t a chance for her to rest and relax. Yvonne joined her, and though the vampiress herself did not eat, it was an opportunity for her to continue with the education. Keeping an eye on April so she wouldn’t slouch, or eat too quick, or act with anything less than perfect grace.

“Amélie…” Yvonne said quietly, seated across the table from April. “Was a wonderful girl.”

As much as she wanted to just wolf down the steak dinner she had been prepared, April set down her utensils and listened. Yvonne had barely talked about the real Amélie. Maybe this would be a chance to learn something.

“She was pretty and clever. With a bit of a wilful streak, of course, but nothing I couldn’t have handled in due time.” There was a wistful smile on the vampire’s red lips. “But there was no time. She was taken from me.”

Not sure what to say, April kept her silence.

“This gift, I accepted by my own choice. I wished to save her, and to live with her, eternal. But I was punished for what I did. The fever took her before I even had the chance to…” Yvonne’s voice trailed off.

Despite all the horrible things she had done to her—or perhaps because of them—April did feel a pang of sympathy. Yvonne was a monster, but she had gone through a genuine tragedy.

“But now I have been given another chance,” Yvonne said softly. “Here you are again, before me. I won’t make the mistakes I once did. I will never let you go, my darling. You will always be my own.”

April finished her meal in silence, setting her cutlery aside and dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief when she was finished. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Are you tired, my darling? It has been a rough day, and you do deserve your rest.”

Rest did sound nice. “…Yes, mother. I would like that.”

Yvonne stood up and offered her arm. April took it and was led back not to the small room given to her, but to the master bedroom in which Yvonne slept. She gave the vampire a quizzical look. “Would you not rather sleep with your mother, darling? The guest room was but a temporary arrangement. You deserve much better than that.”

“…Yes, mother,” April responded, blinking a few times. Was Yvonne really going to sleep _with_ her? Did she truly think April would do nothing to her? A vampire was at her most vulnerable during their few hours of sleep, and April could probably fashion some sort of a stake and a hammer from the contents of the room if she caught her like that. Was this some sort of a game, or was Yvonne overestimating the extent of her control over April? As much as April’s will had been whittled down, she wasn’t so far gone she wouldn’t take an obvious opportunity like this. Was she?

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, gently ruffling her hair. “Now turn around for me, darling.”

April did. The vampire opened the back of her dress and began gently stripping her bare. Though April’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, she was long past feeling any real sense of shame. Perhaps it was because Yvonne had seen her in the nude so many times already, but that sense of wrongness was no longer quite there.

“Such a pretty girl you are,” Yvonne cooed, and April felt an odd tinge of anticipation and joy within her. She could feel her heart racing already, her body anticipating those kisses and that bite she was certain to receive. Whether she liked it or not, she was too deeply addicted to them to keep her thoughts entirely straight. This time, though—this time she would need to keep her senses with her. If she could just stay conscious until Yvonne went to sleep, then…

With April completely nude, Yvonne began taking off her own clothes, disrobing before the girl she called her daughter. This was the first time April had seen the vampire in the nude, and she found herself blushing even brighter. A slender figure, pale skin unmarred by a single blemish, one’s eyes easily drawn to her taut breasts. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, her every movement both graceful and predatory, Yvonne gestured at April to come closer. Unable to take her eyes off the vampire’s form, she meekly complied, sitting down onto the bed next to her.

“Do you find your mother beautiful?” Yvonne asked, a whisper in April’s ear.

“I do,” April said in a small voice.

“Good girl. Give your mother a kiss.”

April did. Leaning into Yvonne, wrapping her arms around her, she pushed her red lips against Yvonne’s own. The vampire offered a passionate response, turning the clumsy smooch into a deep kiss, forcing April’s mouth open with her tongue and slipping it within. The pleasure was almost too much for April to bear, her body shivering with building need.

The kiss was soon over, April’s head still swimming as she was pulled up to Yvonne’s lap, an arm around her waist and a hand on her thigh, her shoulders resting against those cold breasts. “You’ve been such a good girl today, my darling. I’ve enjoyed our time together more than you can imagine. You deserve a little reward…” she whispered, a hand sliding down between April’s thighs.

That, however, was a bit too much for April to bear. “N-no!” she cried out, jolting and clenching her legs. “W-wait, I don’t…”

“There’s no need to be shy, my darling. Mother just wants to see her little girl happy,” Yvonne said, stroking her inner thighs.

The pleasant numbness of the kiss was being replaced by cold panic. Sensual though those kisses and bites had been, April was not prepared for anything more. She suddenly felt like prey again, caught in the claws of a monster. This wasn’t right—she feared what was about to happen just as much as she feared what the vampire might do if she fought back. “W-wait, please,” she said, trying to push Yvonne’s hands away as gently as she could. “Mother, I…”

Yvonne pushed April down to the bed and climbed on top of her, forcefully locking lips with her. That sense of euphoria returned, a dull ache in her body, but she struggled back, still. A soft whimper escaped her throat as Yvonne pulled back, that familiar hypnotic glare returned to her crimson eyes. Sparkling depths, infinite and fascinating, capturing her mind like a spider’s web. In no time at all, April was calm again, that fear and shame locked deep in her heart. “Amélie, my darling…” Yvonne said, brushing her cheek with the back of hand. “You don’t have the option to refuse. You belong to mother, every last part of you.”

April stared back with empty eyes.

“But perhaps I was too hasty, my darling. I just couldn’t resist, with how pretty you are. I know, I know, mother has a thing or two to learn about her little girl, as well…” she said in a soothing tone. “Tell me, darling. Have you ever touched yourself down there? There’s no need to be shy. Mother wants to know everything she can about her precious Amélie.”

April stirred in mild discomfort, what was left of April’s conscious mind fiercely protesting, but it was no longer in control. The words poured out unhindered. “Yes, mother. Just a few times.”

Yvonne smiled. “There’s no need to be ashamed of your own body, darling. Or your desires. You don’t need to hide any of them from your mother,” she said, still stroking her cheek. “In fact, why don’t you show your mother? Go on, touch yourself. Don’t be shy, my darling.”

Even in her mesmerised state, April hesitated—but not for long. Stiffly, she brought her hands down to her sex, clumsily rubbing herself with two fingers, still staring deep into the vampire’s hungry eyes.

Yvonne closed her eyes for a moment, and the golden flecks were gone, her eyes returning to normal. She smiled and stretched, bringing her hands to her chest to slowly play with her pale breasts, all under the dull gaze of the girl she thought her daughter. “Good girl, just like that,” she purred. “Doesn’t it feel good, darling?”

“Yes… yes, mother,” April said, her voice thick.

“Is your mother’s body beautiful?”

“Yes, mother…”

“I have seen the way you look at me, darling, with hunger and need. I’ve seen the way you rub your legs as we kiss, your little flower aching with desire. Mother can see straight into your heart.” Yvonne smiled sweetly. “But there is nothing to worry about, my darling. You need not hide it any longer.”

Perhaps Yvonne was telling the truth, or perhaps not. April’s mind had no way to filter lies from reality. But the dull ache between her legs right now seemed to support what the vampire was saying, April now mesmerised not by her eyes, but by her pale body and beautiful curves. Rubbing herself with more vigour, her body trembling under the vampire’s gaze, she quietly accepted the words into her heart.

“Again and again you’ve surrendered yourself to mother. Again and again you’ve learned to enjoy it. You crave your mother’s touch and affection. Mother has made you her own, and you couldn’t be happier.”

Breathing roughly, April absorbed the sight of the pale vampiress before her. Her seductive form, her red lips and the string of black pearls still around her neck, contrasting her porcelain skin. Enthralled by her beauty, a dull ache within her, a soft whimper escaped her lips as the bedding underneath her turned damp.

Once again, the vampire’s eyes began to glow and glitter, April’s eyes drawn to the gaze. But she did not stop touching herself, the lust within her only growing with every passing moment. Yvonne smiled. “Worship me, darling. With every breath you take, surrender yourself to me. Bask in this pleasure and adore me!”

That was it. Whatever subconscious resistance April had left was swept away by a wave of desire. Looking reverently up at the vampiress, April quietly gave up her heart. It didn’t matter, anymore. Yvonne was like a goddess, beauty and temptation made flesh. Compared to her, April felt so small and insignificant, so privileged to be in her presence. She would happy to submit to her—happy to love her, and serve her, and be her own—if it meant getting to feel this way. There was no question about it anymore, her heart and mind finally giving in.

“Will you submit yourself to mother?” Yvonne asked.

“Yes… yes, mother,” April said quietly. “I love you…”

Yvonne smiled, and leaned down, bringing her lips down to April’s sex. April did not resist as the vampire parted her legs; she cried out in pleasure as she felt those her cold lips kiss her crevice. It didn’t take much to push her over—a lick and a suckle, the vampire’s euphoria-inducing saliva absorbed by her inner walls. There was a pitiful cry as her body trembled and her arched, her climax finally cementing Yvonne’s control over her. She didn’t even have the time to come down from her peak before Yvonne kissed her thigh and pierced it with her fangs, gently suckling on her sweet blood.

Half-conscious, she found herself finally pulled into the vampire’s cold embrace. Trembling lightly under the blankets with her, she shut her eyes and went to sleep, any rebellion in her mind forgotten.


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m sorry, Eve,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “There’s just no leads. I’m not a miracle worker.”

Evelyn couldn’t even feel disappointed anymore. She just felt numb. “I know, Klaus. Thanks for doing your best.”

“The Duchess didn’t take her just to kill her, y’know. She could still be…”

“Thank you, Klaus.”

Still be what? It had already been a week. Whatever the monster had planned for her daughter, she had had all the time in the world to do it. Evelyn Thorberg was not the type to easily lose hope, having gotten this far with dogged determination and a single-minded dedication to her family duty, but she was smart enough to face reality when she had to.

Klaus scratched his unkempt beard. “If there’s anything else you need, just call me. And we’ll keep our eyes on the other girl, ‘course. I’ll keep you updated.”

Evelyn gave a quiet nod in return.

The other girl—Rose—had been be completely beside herself when Evelyn had talked to her. The poor girl hadn’t quite understood what she had seen: she thought she was running away from violent burglars, only to see a woman in red dress fly across the sky with her best friend in her grip. The police had tried to get some answers out of her, but no-one had put much value on her story. Evelyn had since asked her fellow hunters to keep an eye on Rose, just in case, but no-one else had bothered her since. Nor was there any other trace of the Red Duchess: she had vanished completely, with nary a single sighting of her or April for the whole week.

As a hunter, Evelyn had lost a handful of comrades already. It always hurt, but one learned to cope. But this was different. She couldn’t possibly rest until she had found her daughter… or had her vengeance.

* * *

Yvonne watched the sleeping face of her precious daughter, brushing her hair idly as she laid next to her. She was so pretty, so precious like this, her calm expression like that of an angel’s. As the Red Duchess, she had lead an existence of debauchery and indulgence, but no matter what she did she could never silence the cries in her heart. Only now, with her Amélie finally hers, did she feel _content_.

But she couldn’t rush it. Hypnotism was a dangerous and unreliable tool. The wilful girl had resisted for so long before finally succumbing to it, and even after that, Yvonne had to have taken care in how she would use it. A successful remoulding of someone’s mind was a subtle sort of an affair. She could not merely use brute force to make Amélie to love her and accept her as her mother; all she could was to keep nudging her mind. She could provide the mould, but it was Amélie’s own mind that would have to grow the shape provided.

The girl stirred and opened her eyes. Yvonne held her close. “Good morning, darling,” she purred. “Did you sleep well?”

She had seen a rainbow of expressions in her girl’s hazel eyes. Hatred and pain, fear and despair. A blank gaze of indifference as her spirit was crushed, a look of docility as she had finally resigned to obey. It had been a journey for them both, but now, there was finally something else there. A shift in the girl’s eyes as the confusion and bewilderment changed into a look of devotion and love.

“Yes, mother. Good morning,” she mumbled, a pitiful little smile on her lips.

Yvonne kissed her daughter who eagerly accepted her reward. There would still be some work to be done—her Amélie would have to be perfect—but from this point on, she would not resist her fate. Her daughter was hers, in mind and body—and soon soul.


	12. Chapter 12

“Welcome back, mother,” April said, welcoming Yvonne back into her lair with a smile and a curtsey.

“I’m back, my darling.” Yvonne reached down to let the girl kiss her cheeks. April did, receiving one back as a reward. “Did you behave yourself while I was gone?”

“Yes, mother. I read books in the library,” came the reply. Most of her time, though, had been spent thinking about the vampire and waiting eagerly for her return. It’s not like April didn’t know she was this way due to the brainwashing she had been subjected to—that much was obvious. But she simply didn’t care anymore.

It hadn’t been some conscious decision from her part to surrender. It had just happened. At some point, she simply realised she didn’t want to fight it anymore, and that she’d be much, much happier if she would no longer resist.

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, eliciting a pleased little smile from April. “I had something I wished to talk to you about. Come this way…” Putting a hand possessively around the girl’s waist, she escorted her to her parlour, sitting her down on the sofa with her.

Would this be another training session? April sat attentively, her back straight, her knees crosses with hands on her lap. “What is it, mother?”

“Darling, do you remember the talk we had the other day…?” the vampire asked, holding April close. “About a tool, or a weapon, that the Thorberg family might possess?”

Though only a week had passed, it felt like a lifetime ago. April had been a different person back then. Back then, she hadn’t even wanted to give it any thought, lest she might expose something she should not. Even now she had her doubts, a part of her screaming at her not to betray her family, but—what was the point of resisting? If Yvonne wished, she could simply hypnotise her for answers anyway.

Yvonne brushed her cheek. “It could be anything at all, darling. It’s unlikely to be a large object. A book, or a piece of art, or…”

“Ah,” April said, a flash of recollection in her head. She blinked. “Or a ring…?” She had seen something like that, on the day before April’s capture as her mom was packing her bags. In her suitcase—“There was a ring. Gold, I-I think. On a chain. There was an engraving, I think, but I didn’t read it.”

“I see,” Yvonne said. “Mm, that would do it. How troublesome. I hardly anticipated such a thing could be found.”

“What is it, mother?” April asked.

“It is… a trait of our kind to be stripped of power by objects that held significance to us during our lifetimes,” Yvonne said slowly. “And it is exactly that. It is a wedding band, my darling, and it brings to my mind a life long since lost. A daughter I had almost given up on…”

April swallowed, her mind returning to lessons given by her mom. A vampire might be repelled by a piece of art they treasured as a mortal, or a symbol of their faith if they had led a devout life. Usually, tools like that were an unreliable asset; it was difficult to discover what exact object held significance for any given vampire without a lot of research being done to their past, and even then, it was often guesswork at best. But if to Yvonne, her wedding ring symbolised her lost family—and Amélie more specifically—it was no wonder if she lost power in its proximity.

Yvonne smiled. “But it matters no longer.”

“Why is that, mother?” April asked, though she felt she already knew the answer.

“Because I now have my dear Amélie with me, right here,” she whispered, gently stroking her hair. “And the pain in my heart is gone.”

Perhaps she was right. If so, the ring in the possession of April’s mom, the ring that must have helped her late great-grandfather once fight the Red Duchess in even terms, was now a useless piece of metal. April felt just a bit empty on the inside. She probably should have felt guilty about betraying her mom and her family legacy the way she had, but… but she did not. She loved Yvonne. She was already hers. Only, there was one more fear still in her heart.

“Mother, may I ask you something?” April asked after a moment of quiet.

“Yes, darling?”

April hesitated. “Do you… have to turn me?”

“Oh, my darling…” Yvonne pulled her close.

“We could…” April said, trying to find the words. “I love you, mother. But isn’t it fine like this? “You don’t have to… I could remain…” Her voice trailed off. As much as she loved the vampire now, she did not want to be one herself. The thought of losing her humanity terrified her in a way nothing else did. She didn’t want to love her empathy towards others and become a monster in heart—a murderous predator. How many thousands had Yvonne killed in her life? She saw mortals as nothing more than prey and useful slaves, April as perhaps the sole exception. And she didn’t want to become like that.

“Mother won’t lose her sweet child again. Not ever,” she said, kissing April on the cheek and on the side of her neck. “You’ll always be mother’s little girl, and our bond must be eternal.”

“…Yes, mother,” April said, her voice wavering a bit. But Yvonne kissed her again and again, and she melted into her embrace, letting those fears get buried under the waves of hot pleasure.

“Mother will help you take your mind off such things, darling,” Yvonne purred. “Some more training could be in order.”

“Mm…” April held the vampire tight.

“Why don’t we practice some kissing, hm? You’re well on your way to becoming a fine lady, but it would not hurt for you to learn some more sensual arts as well…”

“Yes, mother. I would like that,” April responded dreamily.

April spent the next half an hour in bliss, kissing the vampiress over and over. Yvonne was passionate but meticulous; she taught her how to use her tongue and her lips, where to place her hands, how to take it slow and how to make it intense. Eventually, she was rubbing her legs together and panting sweetly, Yvonne teasingly feeling her under the skirt of her dress. “You seem to enjoy it when I’m more forceful, my darling,” the vampiress cooed, pushing April down on the sofa. “Does it feel good, to be controlled by your mother?”

“Y-yes, mother…” April breathed. “I love you…”

“Good,” Yvonne said, her crimson eyes changing their hue again. “Just let mother take care of you…”

April had grown to love hypnosis. It was the ultimate bliss, ultimate surrender, to give the vampire unrestricted control of her will. She eagerly looked up into the glimmering depths of her mother’s eyes, her well-trained mind losing itself to them in no time at all.

“This is what your heart desires, my darling,” Yvonne said, looking deep into April’s blank eyes. “To obey your mother. To succumb to her will. To worship her with every fibre of your being. It was never freedom that you craved for, but control. And mother will give you that.”

“Yes, mother,” April said, her voice thick with arousal.

“Stand before me, Amélie. And take a knee.”

“As you wish, mother,” April said weakly, standing up from the sofa and kneeling before the vampire.

Yvonne smiled. “Good girl,” she said, offering her foot to her daughter. “Take off my shoe, darling.”

The nice thing about being mesmerised was that one didn’t need to question a thing. All that April had to do was to obey. Without hesitation, she took off Yvonne’s red heel, exposing the porcelain skin of her foot underneath. April looked up at the vampire, waiting for further instructions.

“Do you find your mother’s feet beautiful, darling?”

April lowered her gaze and studied it. Smooth and delicate, unmarred by age or anything else; a gentle curve to it, held slack before her eyes. Her toenails were painted the same scarlet as her fingernails, sharply contrasting her pale skin. “Yes, mother,” she said, no longer able to tear her eyes off the sight.

“Hold it, Amélie,” Yvonne said, her tone sweet but commanding. “And kiss it. Feel it against your cheek.”

“Yes, mother.” April did as told. She held it delicately with her small hands, kissing the ball and gently brushing her cheek against its inner arch. It was cold, but soft, a silky brush against her skin.

“This is what you desire, Amélie. This is where you belong, by your mother’s feet. Worshipping her and showing your devotion, your every thought dedicated to serving her,” Yvonne said, a shiver passing through April’s spine. “You may continue to attend to me, darling, for however long you wish.”

“…Thank you, mother…” April responded dreamily, shivering in delight as she brought her lips up to those porcelain feet, kissing them over and over again. Something clicked within her, a new form of understanding awakening in her heart. This was bliss unlike anything she had ever felt before. Mindless worship, utter submission before the absolute will of the beautiful duchess before her. Even without realising it, she was rubbing her legs together, the rising arousal within her too much to bear.

“Stay still, darling,” Yvonne chided her. “Do not touch yourself. Do not even rub. Your desires do not matter. Only mother’s do.”

April obeyed, continuing to worship her mother’s feet in a trance despite the growing ache within her. Caressing them and licking them, suckling on every toe, the silence in the room perfect except for the sounds of her own mouth. Only finally was she commanded to stand up and take her place by her mother’s side again, her thighs dripping with need. She wanted to cry out and whine, the throb between her legs nearly driving her mad, but she had been taught better than that. So instead, she snuggled up next to the vampire, looking back up into her hypnotic glare.

“Good girl. That’s a good girl,” Yvonne said soothingly, kissing her on the cheek and holding her close. “Mother knows what you want next. But first, repeat after me…”

“Yes, mother,” she said, her voice small.

“I am mother’s devoted daughter.”

“I am mother’s devoted daughter…”

“I will be eternally her own.”

“I will be eternally her own.”

“I am mother’s precious Amélie.”

“I am mother’s precious Amélie.”

Yvonne gave her daughter a kiss and gently took her up to her lap, a cold hand sliding up her wet thigh. “That’s a good girl. Now let mother give you a well-deserved reward…”


	13. Chapter 13

Amélie smiled, admiring herself in the mirror. It wasn’t mother today who had done her makeup—it was Celeste, but the maid had been trained well. Slow as the movements of a ghoul were, they were precise and meticulous, almost mechanical in nature. Amélie had sat patiently through the process, her head filled with thoughts of her mother. She would be so happy to see how beautiful her daughter was—just thinking about it gave her the chills. She wanted to be perfect for mother, today more than ever.

The ghoulish maid was giving her a manicure, her cold fingers doing delicate work, but Amélie’s thoughts were elsewhere. Two days ago, she had finally understood the truth: she really _was_ Amélie, Yvonne’s daughter reborn. Nothing else could explain the bond between them, the love and devotion she felt for her. Only she was worth standing by her mother’s side. She could still remember her former life as an April, but that girl no longer existed. Like a baby bird hatching from an egg, she had broken free with her mother’s help, the shell of her former self discarded like garbage it was.

Amélie’s rebirth had not come easy, of course. The past two days had been a blur. Behaviour training, speech training, obedience training—Amélie had eagerly devoted herself to it all, anxious to become the perfect daughter her mother wished her to be. She had given herself over to her, let her heart and mind be moulded like clay. All that hard work had paid off: now, she was a work of art created by her mother’s hands, the way she had always been meant to be.

The Amélie reflected before her in the mirror was a creature of beaty. Her caramel hair was freshly trimmed and brushed, her were lips scarlet red, a touch of dark green eyeshadow drawing attention to her hazel eyes. A pair of garnet earrings, identical to those of her mother’s, adorned her ears; there was a silver tiara on her hair; her gown was a multi-layered thing of beauty, red and black with lace and ribbons, befitting the daughter of a duchess. It was certainly more dramatic than the look given to her by her mother in the days before, but that was only proper. Today was special, after all—it was the very last day of her life.

“I am finished,” the ghoul said, stepping back and starting at her dispassionately. “You are very beautiful, Lady Amélie. Your mother will be happy.”

“Thank you, Celeste,” Amélie said. “You may leave.”

Celeste curtsied and left, Amélie left admiring herself for a moment longer. Her mother had taught her that vanity was not a sin—striving for beauty and elegance in all things was essential for a lady, and there was no shame in being proud about it. She glanced at the clock on the wall: it was twenty minutes to midnight. She still had a little time to kill. Taking a breath, she sat in perfect stillness like a doll, thinking about her mother and letting the minutes pass. A lady had to be patient; a lady mustn’t get bored or restless. Only fifteen minutes later did she stand up and make her way down the hall to her mother’s room.

In contrast to the elaborately dressed Amélie, Yvonne was unclothed, only her eyes and her lips contrasting her gorgeous pale skin, sitting on her bed with a hunger in her gaze as she looked over her daughter. “You’re beautiful, Amélie,” she said, gesturing at her to approach. “Come here, my darling. I have something for you.”

Though pride swelled in her chest, Amélie did not let it show on her face. Stepping closer, holding up the long hems of her gown as she walked, she gave a perfect curtsey to her mother and kissed her once on both cheeks. “What is it, mother?”

Yvonne held a ruby ring on palm. “Offer me your hand, darling,” she said.

Amélie did, holding out her left hand while submissively lowering her gaze.

“Let this ring symbolise the bond between us. The love we share, and your devotion to me,” the vampire said, affixing the ring to its place and holding her by her fingers. “Will you be mine forever, my darling?”

Amélie raised her head. She was happier than she could remember ever being, but she had been trained well. She was in control of her emotions. Still, it took a lot of strength not to cry as she admired the ring on her finger, the cold metal just tight enough to subtly remind her of who she belonged to. “I’m yours, mother,” she said. “I give you my heart. My soul. I am your daughter, now and forever.”

“Good girl,” Yvonne said, brushing her daughter’s cheek and leading her onto the bed by her hand. “Tonight, we shall become one. Tonight, we shall be joined in blood.”

“Yes, mother,” Amélie whispered, letting herself be guided by her mother who gently lowered her onto the bed and offered her pale bosom to her. Giving the teat a gentle kiss, Amélie wrapped her arms around her mother and began to suckle.

Though Amélie had imagined the taste of blood to be disgusting, her mother’s was anything but. It was thick and sweet, rich with flavours. And it was cold—it chilled her to her very core, numbing her tongue. The drip of blood from the vampire’s swollen nubs was steady but slow, drawing out their tender moment together. Amélie suckled on in silence, letting that poisoned blood gradually pour down her throat. It felt _wrong_ , a presence of evil within her spreading through her and corrupting her; her every human instinct told her to reject it, but she wouldn’t listen. This was her mother’s gift; she would accept it, even if it meant losing her soul and becoming a monster.

Only finally did her mother stop holding her, patting her little girl’s bloodied lips with a handkerchief before giving her a kiss. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, mother,” Amélie said, tugging aside her collar and exposing her neck.

For all the carnal things they’d done together, their final time together like this was peaceful. Her mother kissed her on the neck once and then bit down, holding her tight in her embrace. Amélie enjoyed herself in silence, basking in her mother’s love, her body gradually getting weak and cold. Her vision darkened and her breaths grew shallow, and finally she drifted away into a cold nothing—a faint little smile on her pale face as her heart beat its last.


	14. Chapter 14

It was like stirring awake from a long dream, though for a moment, Amélie wasn’t sure if she was truly woken up at all. She was laying on her mother’s soft bed, staring up toward the ceiling with her arms crossed over her chest. She felt neither hot nor cold; there was an odd silence, a stillness to her body that was strange and unfamiliar. Her heart did not beat; her lungs did not draw breath. There was no rush of blood in her ears to fill the silence with its constant flow.

“Good morning, darling,” said her mother, standing beside her by the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Good, mother,” Amélie said, the coldness of her own voice surprising her. “…I think.”

“Stand up, darling.”

Amélie did. Getting up from the bed, she stood before her mother and curtsied. Her mother brushed her cheek; the touch no longer felt cold against her skin, but it was still soft and pleasant. Leaning up, Amélie gave her mother a pair of kisses on her both cheeks and stepped back.

“You look wonderful, my darling. Like a perfect porcelain doll.”

Amélie curtsied again.

It all felt so different, now. Her body, her feelings, _everything_. She didn’t feel numb, exactly—if anything, it was the opposite. The touch of her mother, the texture of her gown against her skin, the tightness of the ruby band around her finger, she was more conscious of them than ever. She could smell the wax of the candles burning in the room and see with perfect clarity despite them serving as their only source of light. She could hear, if she strained her ears, the quiet cleaning of the ghoul maid far off in the hallway. She felt stronger and more agile, in better control of her own body than ever before. Even her mind seemed sharper, and yet—

She had lost something that had always been a part of her until now. A warmth—not just warmth of her body, but of her soul. Even deeply brainwashed as she had been, she had held it deep within her heart. There had been capacity for empathy and genuine passion, an inner glow that made her feel human. When she now looked up at her mother, she felt many things within her: admiration, adoration, reverence, subservience. Obsession and fanatical devotion. But was it love, anymore? Could what she was feeling be even called that? She no longer got butterflies in her stomach as she looked at her beautiful face. Her heart no longer throbbed for her. There was no haze of infatuation.

But did any of it matter? Amélie wasn’t sure if she was even capable of longing for what was gone. Besides, it changed nothing. She was the perfect daughter that her mother wanted. Obedient and eternally devoted, her mother’s little doll, unchanging and perfect. And if that made her happy, it would make Amélie happy as well.

“Do take a look at yourself, darling,” Yvonne said, patting her daughter on the shoulder and leading her to the mirror.

Amélie’s whole presence had changed, which came to her as a mild surprise. The actual physical changes were relatively minor, in the end. Porcelain-pale skin; long and pointed ears; red eyes, just a shade darker than her mother’s own. As she parted her red lips, she could just see her sharp canines. Her fingernails had grown just a bit, hardened and sharpened enough to tear through flesh. But it was the lack of warmth within her that felt the most different, plain to see in her very being; the eyes of the girl gazing back at her from the mirror were callous and cold, no trace of humanity left within.

“Now, darling,” Yvonne said, turning her daughter around and kissing her on the forehead. “Mother does have a special gift for you, to celebrate the first day of your rebirth.”

It was a bit of a shame her mother’s kisses no longer felt the way they once had, with a pleasant tingle and warmth, one vampire immune to another’s saliva. But even then, Amélie was gleeful from the affection given to her, the feeling in her chest at least resembling joy. “A gift, mother?” she asked, looking up with her hands crossed in front of her. “What is it?”

“Come, and you’ll see,” Yvonne said, a hand around her daughter’s torso as she led her out of the master bedroom, and towards the little guestroom in which she had first woken when taken by her mother many days ago.

Even on the way there, Amélie could smell it, a rich sweetness unlike anything else. It made her body tense, like a predator’s ready to bounce. A strange type of hunger awoke within her, saliva already pooling within her mouth. Her instincts told her to rush ahead and force herself into the room, a single-minded desire growing within her—but she had been trained better than that. Stopping before the door, she politely awaited for her mother’s permission.

“I’ll give you some privacy, darling. Enjoy yourself as much as you’d like,” she said sweetly, revealing a small silver key and inserting it into the keyhole. “No need to hold yourself back. It’s your very first meal, after all—and you need the strength.”

“I understand,” Amélie said, curtseying. “Thank you, mother.”

The door opened with a click, Amélie entering the room alone. Her mother closed the door behind her.

“A-April?” asked the girl in the room, blue eyes wide with confusion and terror. Amélie looked her over: light complexion and curly ginger hair, only a simple nightgown given to her to conceal her lightly curved body. From the looks of it, Rose still wasn’t quite sure if the pale doll before her really was the girl she knew, disbelief plain on her face.

“Hello, Rose,” Amélie said in a flat tone, narrowing her red eyes as she looked her former friend over.

“I-it is you! What did she do to you?” Rose asked, frozen like a deer in headlights. “S-she killed someone, April! T-there was a man who tried to save me, and she—”

Amélie _tried_ to see the girl before her as a friend. To feel a hint of that love she had once felt towards her, even some sympathy to her fear. But there was no trace of such feelings left within her; Rose just looked weak and pathetic, her warm skin inviting, the scent of the blood flowing within her intoxicating. The girl before her didn’t seem like a person. She seemed like prey.

“A-April?” she asked, her voice weak. She looked even more scared, now. Was Amélie’s expression that frightful? “P-please help me.”

It wasn’t just the girl’s scent that excited Amélie. It was her fear as well, the way her lip trembled and her voice wavered. Rose was scared—scared of _her_. The sad little mortal before her trembled like a bunny rabbit, just as weak and helpless. And powerless as she was, Amélie could do anything she wished to her: hurt her, kill her, even control her mind. Entranced by the feeling of her own power, Amélie stepped forward with a smile, Rose taking a step back to retreat. Amélie gave her a push, and she stumbled back onto the bed, her face white with fear.

“W-why are you…” she said, her voice practically a whisper.

Amélie jumped on top of her, wrapping a hand around her throat. She squeezed, just a bit, enough to reduce her former friend’s pleas into a pitiful wheeze. Rose struggled back, trying to grab her wrist and pull her arm away, but it wouldn’t budge. Amélie was barely applying any pleasure. With just a bit more force, she could silence the girl for good; with a small slash of her nails, she could cut her artery and watch the blood flow. Undead though she might have been, Amélie suddenly felt so very alive; there was no other feeling like this, having absolute power over a living creature. Licking her lips, she relaxed her grip.

“P-please…” Rose whimpered, her voice hoarse. “Don’t hurt me. I-I’ll do anything…”

“Aww,” Amélie said, curiously studying her expression. “Is my Rose scared?”

“I-I’m so sorry for…”

A part of Amélie wanted to play with the girl more. Tease her, torture her, see what it’d take to break her will. But she was so, so hungry already—and her mother was surely waiting for her. So instead, she just leaned down, her body already knowing what to do.

There was a pitiful cry as her fangs pierced the ginger-haired girl’s neck. Amélie’s mother had always given her those numbing kisses beforehand, but Amélie had not bothered. She just held the girl down, the struggles dying down within moments, and let her beating heart pump her lifeblood straight into Amélie’s thirsty mouth.

It was even better than Amélie could’ve imagined. Her insides were filled with warmth again, her mouth filled with rich sweetness that was unlike anything she had ever tasted. Mind-numbing euphoria mixed in with a sense of deep satiety, the thirst within her quenched within moments. There was, even, an almost humanlike feeling of love. Love directed towards herself, towards her mother, the world, and the girl she was feeding on.

Rose had calmed down, her mind quickly succumbed to the bliss. There was a wonderful sense of intimacy between them; Amélie focused on the heartbeat under her skin, delivering more and more blood to her to feast on. Moment by moment, that beat seemed to slow down, life slowly leaving her body. But Amélie didn’t stop—she didn’t want to. The thought of her former best friend giving her life to her, the spark of her existence snuffed out by this moment of passion, was too thrilling for Amélie to hold back. And so, she drank, and drank, until Rose was no more. Until she was still as a doll, her lips blue with a glazed expression in her dead eyes.

Amélie basked in the afterglow, looking at the dead body of her former friend with wonder. In the end, she really did love Rose. She had made the ultimate sacrifice, giving up her life just so Amélie could feel this way. Grateful for the gift, Amélie leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Rose. And goodbye.”


	15. Chapter 15

She should have withdrawn a long ago, but ignoring the pain, Evelyn Thorberg limped on. The Red Duchess’s ghouls had been ready for her, but clearly, they had underestimated the firepower she’d bring with her. Though inefficient against vampires, a shotgun through the chest was a good way to put an end to a ghoul.

It was all a trap, of course. How could it not be? The Duchess wouldn’t have revealed herself by accident. She wanted to lure the hunter there, perhaps imagining Evelyn still held some hope that her daughter was alive and human. She did not, though. She had long since given up hope on her daughter. She was here only for vengeance, and if it cost her life to make the attempt, so be it.

But her resolve made what came next no less painful.

“Welcome, huntress,” the Duchess said, spreading her arms. “It’s time for us to put an end to your bloodline. You’ll be yet another in a long line of pests I’ve removed.”

Evelyn’s attention was not on the gloating Duchess, though, but on the small girl next to her. She stood there in a red dress, looking up at who should have been her mom with a cruel smile and hateful eyes.

Yvonne narrowed her eyes in predatory glee. “You are angry. But I’ve only taken what’s mine, huntress,” she said, possessively laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Evelyn screamed in fury. She dropped her shotgun and drew her crossbow, lunging forward with the golden ring on a chain around her wrist. It should have slowed the Duchess down—but it did not. She deflected the wooden bolt shot out at her with a swipe of her hand and a disinterested look on her face, calling her red mist around Evelyn’s ankles using it to pull her down to the ground. Evelyn rolled around, only to see the merciless red eyes of her only daughter looking down at her with a sneer.

“A—”

There was no hesitation. Amélie thrust her fingers through the woman’s throat, ending her life in an instant. With a smile, she offered her bloodied fingers to her mother.

Yvonne took her daughter’s hand, holding it by her wrist and suckling the blood off her fingers.

“Did I do good, mother?” Amélie asked, fishing for praise.

Yvonne crouched down to kiss her on lips, the taste of blood on them pleasantly spreading through the little vampire’s mouth. “You did, darling. Very well done.”

“I love you, mother,” she said, her little black heart glowing with joy.

“I love you too, my little doll.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a more substantial story about brainwashing and corruption where the process was the main point and wasn't simply done in a paragraph or two, so here we go. It's my first time writing a single story anywhere close to this length, but I had fun doing it, so I'm happy to accept any feedback or tips offered for the future. 
> 
> So don't hesitate to comment, even (or especially) if it's to criticise.


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